


Deal with the Devil

by CelticPixie



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Alternate Canon, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt, Episode: s04e05 Expire Erect, F/M, Gen, Hurt Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), I'm Going to Hell, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Jealousy, Lucifer Feels, Major Character Injury, Minor Lucifer/Eve, Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:42:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 25,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26409679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelticPixie/pseuds/CelticPixie
Summary: “There are two kinds of guilt: the kind that drowns you until you’re useless, and the kind that fires your soul to purpose.”― Sabaa Tahir, An Ember in the Ashes~Lucifer thought one last case with Chloe would bring him the closure he needed. One bullet was all it took for her to realize what she couldn’t afford to lose
Relationships: Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar
Comments: 22
Kudos: 193
Collections: Lucifer and Chloe, The Archangel Lucifer





	1. Vulnerability

**Author's Note:**

> Even though the show has been around since 2016, I never got into it until recently when I was hanging out with a friend of mine and decided to start a binge. I’ve been hooked ever since and just finished it today. I absolutely loved every second of it! I think I became hooked on Deckerstar from the first episode. They have amazing chemistry. I’m sure I was the same as everyone else when they finally hooked up. 
> 
> The few times Lucifer literally died to save Chloe’s life got me thinking of the one time of the one-time her guilt could have cost her so much.

Chloe Decker was many things; down-to-earth, intelligent, by-the-books, composed, strong-willed, and at times awkward. One thing she didn’t admit to was jealousy. She wasn’t jealous—so she claimed, yet her gut swelled with this demon threatening to consume her on every level. Everything she’d known of logic and reasoning no longer existed.

Here stood a woman Chloe had seen once before, but there was nothing the detective didn’t remember. She was perfect. Her brown eyes, the coal black curls framing her angelic skin—so flawless—and those ruby red lips. Everything Chloe wasn’t. It was difficult not to laugh bitterly when Lucifer introduced them.

Swatting away her demon, she figured staring long enough was too awkward; “So, this is your ex-girlfriend, from, like, the beginning of time…” This whole concept of demons, and angels, and devils was still something she was trying to wrap her head around. She never paid much attention to Biblical history either.

Lucifer’s mouth scarcely moved when he said, “…pretty much.”

A voice interrupted them. “Detective Decker!” Of all those moments she mentally coached herself to be prepared for anything, this was not at all it. “Everybody be cool!” He waved the gun around and the crowd immediately thinned.

Marco Franklin, just released from prison after a nine-year stint for armed robbery. He committed the robbery with a pair of cohorts – Sid Kruge and Derek Lee – but he was the only one arrested for it. He later killed these same two people.

The detective immediately reached for her gun. “Don’t try it!” He warned, and she very gently removed her right hand from her service weapon, holding her left up in surrender. “Detective Decker—I need you to listen to me carefully…”

Lucifer side-stepped in front of Eve and partially obstructed Chloe. “Much as I appreciate the well-time interruption, you can’t just walk into my club—”

Chloe has been a cop for many years now. She knew what a gunshot sounded like. Something so close was usually so loud that it essentially rang quiet. For just a split second, it is the brassiest sound imaginable, but, just like a crackle of lightning—everything goes still.

There was a riotous, percussive thudding, and Lucifer’s body is jerking forwards. His face was a mixture of shock, and fear—his mouth agape as though he intended to cry out and his vocal cords rendered him mute. The bullet tore all through his abdomen like tissue paper.

He suddenly felt like he had been overcome by a crippling nausea. The intensely mind-numbing ache started just above his spleen and then flourished through his ribcage.

Chloe gasped, studying as the darkest red blood spider-webbed beneath Lucifer’s pale blue maison margiela faux pocket button-up, and didn’t think about why she bothered remembering the graphic designer brand of the shirt he wore.

Finding her voice, she screamed; “Lucifer!”

His knees buckled first, and then his balance was lost, and soon the ground was rising up before he could latch onto something.

Chloe was at his side in only seconds, employing what first-aid she knew to staunch the blood flow. Despite the pressure she applied, the red stain was spreading rather quickly. Lucifer’s breathing was drifting in at unsteady spirts. He tried lifting his head but it felt more like dead weight to him. So he didn’t try it again. He instead tried to focus on his breathing—in, then out, then in again. His chest rattled every time.

Of course she couldn’t show her fear; she had to keep her focus.

Together with Eve’s assistance, Chloe managed to get Lucifer dragged to somewhere nearby where she could get him propped up against something.

Everyone else in the building had started running towards the exists.

Marco snapped; “Everyone sit down!” Several people stopped cold mid-sprint. “There’s a bomb in this building. So if anyone thinks they can escape through the crowd, or if anyone tries to rush me—BACK UP!” One person he dared him… and he was quickly met with the barrel of Marco’s 9mm. “… everyone dies. Detective Decker—” Gripping the bomb trigger in his left hand, his gun swerved around to aim at Chloe. “—put your gun on the ground… an-and your phone. Now.”

She had never been more terrified but she did as he asked, then slowly raised her hands up in surrender while taking a few steps backward. “Okay. Okay. Whatever you say. But, this man needs an ambulance right now and I will stay with you but everyone should go.” She was bargaining—Lucifer’s life, and everyone else’s, for hers. As a cop, Chloe swore to protect the innocent.

“No! Shut up. Shut up. No. Now, n-nobody is leaving.” Marco’s voice was shaky, as if he were unsure of himself right then. “You—” shrugging off the back strap over his shoulder, he tossed it towards a frightened blond leaving against the bar counter, “—go around and collect people’s phones. Now! Get up! Let’s go!”

Chloe used the distraction to get back to Lucifer. “You okay?” It seemed kind of ridiculous to ask such a question to someone who was bleeding profusely from his gut but it was the only thing her frazzled brain could come up with.

He half-smiled, half-chuckled; “Bit of a stomach ache, detective…”

“He’s the Devil,” Eve stated, ostensibly more alarmed at this moment, yet internally not rationalizing the gravity of the situation as Chloe would have. “…he’ll be okay… right?”

The detective nodded. “Yeah, he’s gonna be fine.”

~

_It happened as if her own body had no control of her actions._

_Lucifer is trotting off to have the music turned on and the next, there is a vial of poison in her hand—and then she’s popping the lid open, and then she’s reaching towards the glass of pinot noir. All she had to do was tip it, just a little, and watch as the liquid poured out, mixing with the red wine; Lucifer would never knew. Chloe thought about leaving just as he would take that sip. She didn’t want to be around when he—when he…_

_That bad 90s music she was so found of blared from the speaker system. Shaken, Chloe’s hand dropped the vial and it crashed into the wine glass, spilling the pinot noir all over the carpet as the glass shattered like a broken heart._

_She gasped, sputtering apologies; “Lucifer! I, I, I’m sorry… I…” What she sorrier for though—breaking the wine glass or realizing she was about to kill him? Chloe has broken way more wine glasses in her life for her to be appalled by yet another one._

_“…hm, sorry,” he started trotting down the steps that lead to his bedroom, “can’t believe I left it so loud. Oh I’ll get it...” Seeing the spilled wine, the broken shards of glass, Lucifer sprang into action. He ran a night club. People broken wine and liquor glasses all the time; Chloe breaking one did nothing to him. “No, I’ve got it detective, don’t worry—Ow!” In the midst of clean-up, one of the glass shards sliced at his palm. He swore, loudly, and instantly started sucking at the laceration._

_Normal people bleed—Lucifer was not normal. “You’re bleeding…” She’s seen him bleed plenty of time before but this was prior to knowing he was the devil, and after seeing him survive an explosion—_

_“It’s fine. I’m fine.” He walked off in the direction of the bar, snatching up a towel to press against his palm, staunching the minor bit of bleeding._

_Chloe repeated herself, “You’re bleeding…”_

_Blinking, Lucifer assured her, again, “I’m fine..” He visually inspected his hand to make sure there were no tiny pieces of glass he would have to dig out with tiny pliers._

_“You’re bleeding—” This time, she was consciously climbing to her feet, and switching off the music at the same time, “—and no, it’s n-not fine.” She drew closer to him, aware now how her heartrate was changing, “I—you know what? Y-Yes, I do have a question for you…”_

_Lucifer abandoned the bloody towel. His undivided attention was on the detective. He did tell her to ask any question she wanted; he figured she probably would._

_“…how is it that you walk away from a giant fiery explosion without a scratch but right now, you are bleeding. You were shot in the hand last week. You almost died when Malcolm shot you in the gut. I, I mean… I shot you! I shot you—and I felt horribly about that, by the way—but what is this? Is anything even real with you? Were you trying to manipulate me?” Her eyes felt wet, stinging with the tears she held back. “Were you trying to make me feel bad? Is this all to make me care about you more?”_

_He seemed taken aback but given everything, Lucifer can’t say he couldn’t blame Chloe in the slightest for the outburst. “No…” His voice carried a semi-heartbroken weight to it._

_“Then what is this? How is it that sometimes you don’t get hurt and other times you do?” A single tear did manage to escape but she just let it fall. “What is the difference?”_

_“You are, detective.” His voice was soft; it was appeasing and gentle. “I don’t fully understand myself but… I’m only vulnerable when I’m close to you.”_

_Astonished, Chloe stood there as though he literally stole the very breath from her lungs._

~

Lucifer dragged in sharp gulps of air, augmented by jagged gasps; his lungs shuttering as agonizing spasms pummeled his ribcage. They were wobbly and excruciating, each one feeling like shards of glass grating the layers of his trachea. After ruling Hell for eons, disseminating innumerable methods of punishment—somehow, _this_ gut wound of his seemed far worse.

She wanted to maintain focus on Lucifer— _he_ was the injured one here—but her inherent nature of being a LAPD detective had her eyes constantly wandering back and forth in fear Marco would gun down another hostage. Perhaps the second time she looked away from Lucifer gave her the distraction she needed to contain the intensifying anxiety. 

Chloe wasn’t the praying sort; she didn’t even believe in biblical history of God and his angels, or of Heaven and Hell, but she’d give anything to make all this misery stop.

She only peaked back at him when she detected a slight tug on the cuff of her jacket; “Lucifer, I’m so sorry I got you into this…” It was his hand that was pulling at her; she didn’t even think nor care about the warm blood coating his pale fingers.

“Oh nonsense,” he grated, ragged breaths passing in and out of his mouth in irregular intervals, “you needed my Aston to get in and no one drives it but me..”

“I could have found another way, it’s just that—“ He interrupted.

“No,” shaking his head was just as painful as breathing, yet he did it, “It’s not your fault, and I needed the closure,” again, he sought smirking, teasing off his agony like it wasn’t something to him, “I just didn’t expect it to be quite… so closed… “ What he needed was to get away from her, far away, not in a repulsive manner but in order to heal. No telling the damage already done to his insides.

Lucifer tried laughing. That was excruciatingly painful. He’d rather not do that again.

From the furthest corner of her left eye, Chloe noticed Eve scurrying back to them with a bottle of whiskey. She wouldn’t ordinarily be so receptive to a drink but it might be good for Lucifer right now.

Eve had worse luck keeping her panic contained; “This is all they had at the bar,” she remarked, gesturing to the half-empty bottle of Bushmills Black Bush Whiskey, then reached for an—empty glass?—just off to her left-hand side. “Is there anything else I can get him?”

“No, we gotta get him to a hospital…” Chloe reached for his outstretched right hand.

Lucifer protested. “I’m fine, detective. You just get me within an inch of that… tosser… and I’ll tear his arms off like a turkey leg…” He mouthed a thank you to Eve just prior to taking a sip of whiskey—neat, no rocks, just the way he typically enjoyed it.

 _Fine. Right. So he says…_ she was thinking. With how she clutched his hand, her index and middle fingers rested over his wrist. His pulse was thready, scarcely perceptible, and rapid, what felt akin to a fine mobile thread barely thumping beneath the skin.

Chloe mentally chided herself. _Focus, Decker, focus._ Lucifer was out of commission. That left exactly the two of them—her and Eve.

 _Focus_. “Eve, Eve! Do you have any super powers or anything…?” There was still much she didn’t know about this other world. Angels, demons; for all she knew, Eve could have something, _something_ useful.

“No,” she answered, almost tragically, “just me.”

Sigh. “Right. So we got nothing.” She wasn’t meaning for that to come across as insulting; she’d have to remind herself to apologize to the woman later.

If Eve ever felt insulted, she didn’t say so. “What? No. Chloe, we have you. Listen to me, from what Lucifer has told me, you are the smartest, most capable, most resourceful person he’s ever known. So come on, detective, what’s the plan?”

Chloe, for a very brief moment, felt a swell of pride. _Right, a plan. Okay._ “Eve, I need you to tend to Lucifer. Keep pressure on the wound to stop the bleeding… “ _I’m gonna have to find where they hid this bomb… and when I do—Ella!_ “Ella!” She snapped her fingers in the woman’s face to draw attention, “can you defuse it?”

She may be drunk, and she may not be aware her nails were grating Lucifer’s neck, but she was listening well enough. “Sure. Yeah. I read the files… and the bomb Marco’s unit built— _pfft_! Easy as pie!” Ella was giggling, probably because she couldn’t contain herself.

 _Oh, wonderful_. “Lucifer, you have a job to do as well. How do we sober up Ella?”

“…right… s-sober… “ His voice wavered; he was beginning to lose his focus. From his left coat pocket, he produced a tiny bag of what looked like cocaine. “Focus—best way to… lose your roll, detective…” Lucifer tried chuckling at her expense but it just dissipated into wet coughs.

Chloe couldn’t say she was surprised.

Cocaine was a highly addictive drug that ups the level of alertness, attention, and energy. The drug worked by sending high levels of dopamine, a natural chemical messenger in the body, into the parts of the human brain that controlled pleasure. That buildup caused intense feelings naturally referred to as a high.

It was an extremely prohibited substance but Chloe supposed she may possibly pretend she didn’t know Lucifer had it on him. If it got Ella focused enough, she’d be willing to give _anything_ a shot.

She might have been dreaming it. She thought she was dreaming it. But no; Lucifer had indeed twisted his right hand to a point where his thumb grazed the back of her hand. Once she realized what was happening, Chloe smiled. It was a sorrowful smile accompanied by a formidable backdraft of culpability. Their eyes met. She was despising herself now more than ever.

~

_The ride up in the elevator was lonely and silent. Perfect chance for Chloe to have a moment. Her pain was suffocating, heavily settling on her chest because she knew exactly what she’d be walking into. She knew Lucifer suspected something; she’d be kidding herself if she acted otherwise. Perhaps that’s why the elevator to his penthouse felt more like a fateful walk towards her death._

_The guilt she felt was an incessant throb in her heart. Knowing she should be coming up with some kind of apology yet knowing nothing she said would make it better. Her guilt was her shame, screaming how much of a horrible person she was being and how much she didn’t deserve this man. It reminded her of all those times in her life she had failed—including now. It made her cry and wish she could have changed things and hope that she could do better next time. If there was a next time._

_The elevator ding distracted Chloe. But she wasn’t ready. She knew on the other side of that elevator would be the man who’s heart she had broken. Why did she even care this much?_

_As the doors open, and she took her first step into the penthouse, Chloe braced; “Hi…” it was the first word that passed her lips… oh the way they trembled. She drew closer, and she saw how Lucifer’s attention was drawn towards her. Looking into those broken eyes felt like heartbreak. “I, um, arrested Father Kinley… so, you won’t have to worry about him coming after you anymore.”_

_Lucifer wasn’t quite sure how to react; “I don’t care that he was trying to hurt me,” he stated, his voice scary low yet his tone evened and controlled. The way he looked at her—his heart was breaking again, “I care that you were.”_

_Her exhaled felt dramatic. “Lucifer, you have to understand… after I saw you—saw your face—I had to get away…to process things and…somehow…I ended up in Rome. Kinley found me and obviously I shouldn’t have confided in him but—” she creased her lips then drew in breath, “—at the time, it felt like he understood what I was going through…”_

_“He said you found him,” Lucifer interjected._

_Chloe immediately snapped back with, “He’s lying!”_

_Settling himself, Lucifer placed his glass of Glen Moray single malt scotch on the coaster and stood up, probably too abruptly, and the way his eyes burrowed into Chloe was so accusatory. “Well there seems to be a lot of that going around…”_

_“Yes!” She elicited a succinct breath. “I-I did lie to you. An-and for a moment, I **was** trying to help him send you back to hell…” The revelation lifted from her shoulders should have, in theory, made her feel better but nother about her admission of guilt sought to ease her subconscious._

_Lucifer was shell-shocked; his heart breaking. “How could you do that to me? To **me**?!” Tears choked him. He didn’t dare let them escape despite the fact they were threating to._

_“Because I’m terrified!!” Chloe exclaimed, those tears finally surfacing. “You are the actual devil—I mean..” She tossed her hands up, trying to grasp for words. “…every story of good and bad from throughout history, throughout time… says that you are the embodiment of evil. And how am I, Chloe Decker, a nobody, supposed to deal with that?”_

~

When Chloe first met Lucifer, she initially believed he was delusional and regularly dismissed such claims he put forth of being the Devil. There was always that air of abnormality surrounding him, which she accepted in strides, and eventually chalked it up to being somewhat idiosyncratic with delusions of grandeur. She just assumed this nonsense talk of referring to himself as The Devil was some kind of metaphor.

Yet following the realization that he was – _is_ – in fact, the _actual_ Devil, she understandably freaked and for that moment seriously considered whether or not this man she alleged to love was merely putting on some kind of play-act.

She shouldn’t have allowed herself to be manipulated by Father Kinley. He took advantage of her emotional vulnerability and briefly convinced her that Lucifer was evil incarnate. Even then, she knew better. She should have said no. Should have told him to pound sand. Yet that rationally thinking side of her refused to surface so she unwittingly took that vial of poison.

There was a lot of things Chloe wished she could take back. A lot of issues she in no way could. She didn’t want her guilty conscience to be the only thing to deal with pushing forwards. She feared it might be.

~

_It feels like his heart has been punctured a million times over by tiny pins. Sure, it stung, at first, but now he just felt disoriented—not painful, just numb. Perhaps he didn’t notice it at first. It started at the pit of his stomach and slowly sprouted, splintering throughout the rest of his body._

_Lucifer felt like running. But, well, that wouldn’t do him any good. So, instead, he turned his back to her and was content to staring out the window with his hands buried in the pockets of his Atelier Munro pants._

_Exhaling rather slowly, Chloe added, “But then—” she combed a strand of hair behind her ear, “—then I came back and… and I saw you. I really saw you. And I remembered how you made me feel. And I realized, Lucifer, that you’re not that guy.”_

_“Well—what if I am that guy?”_

_“Y-You don’t have to be,” she answered, “You can change.”_

_“But what if I can’t?” With yet another, shuttering breath, Lucifer finally turned around. But the face she saw was not that she memorized with every detail. It was him, as he was—Lucifer Morningstar, ruler of Hell. The way Chloe visibly flinched at the sight of his true face said a lot. “Could you accept me like this?”_

_Chloe struggled to find words, but eventually succeeded, “I—well.. you—you have no idea how much I want to. I, I’m trying…” She really wanted to; she did. Even a small part of her, no matter how deeply buried, knew that she could accept him for what he was._

_“…how could you?” This entire concept of heartbreak was new to him. He didn’t know how to describe it but he knew it was grossly painful._

_Her cheeks were wet. “I… I don’t know….”_

_“Then I have my answer.”_

~

Chloe was searching. Not physically. Visually. She knew where the exits were—the main entrance past the staircase, a back exist towards the left side of the stage. And then she was looking at Marco.

When a person is nervous, they usually shift around subconsciously. He kept pacing this way and that, fidgeting with the trigger in his left hand and the gun in the other. He occasionally glanced around the room but he wasn’t making any sort of visual contact with anyone. Perhaps he knew the exits as Chloe did. As he would pass by the bar, Marco would tap his fingers against the rim or one of the bar stools.

She saw this all before. He was nervous. He was realizing he had gotten himself into something way over his head and now he was trying to work something out. An exit strategy of sorts. But she knew the only place he was going was county jail.

Chloe had been too focused on the situation to notice when Eve took a seat beside her. It wasn’t until that brief shift in weight on the cushion that she glanced over. That demon of jealousy was back again but she seemed to be able to control it better this time. Still, she found a spot on the floor to focus on when the black-haired woman from the dawn of time started looking at her.

But then—she spoke of Lucifer’s condition; “The bleeding slowed down a little,” Eve divulged. “I gave him another drink. That seemed to help…”

“Well I’ve seen Lucifer survive worse than this, so…” Chloe still didn’t make eye contact with the woman sitting next to her but she was looking to where Lucifer was sitting. He seemed much calmer than before. Despite her assurance to Eve, Chloe still worried. “…I’m sure he’ll pull through.” She couldn’t really tell if she was saying this to make herself feel better or not because if she didn’t get him out of there, he wasn’t going to pull through.

“He has to.” Eve sighed. It was such a scared, sad sigh. “I can’t lose him. Not after we just found each other again.”

Chloe curiously asked, “So… you’ve seen his devil face?” She kind of assumed so already.

Eve nodded and sipped her whiskey.

“Does it scare you?”

Lowering her glass, Eve looked at Chloe. “Why would it?” Her eyes were soft and oddly comforting. From the deduction she could pull out of the detective’s question, it was easy enough to figure out the reasoning why such a question. “You know,” instead, she shifted the conversation just a little, “I was literally created to be someone’s wife. No one ever asked me if that’s what I really wanted. Except for him…”

Chloe exhaled softly. Eve didn’t seem all that bad so she couldn’t really fathom why just her presence bothered her so much. She seemed to genuinely care about Lucifer so that should be all that mattered to her.

She couldn’t afford to allow her jealously to take her over. Her main focus was on the man bleeding out from his abdomen. It physically nauseated her watching Lucifer struggle to breathe like that. His chest was still moving in and out. He was still conscious. This was a good thing.

Every time she looked away from Lucifer, she didn’t know if he would still be fully conscious when she looked back but her eyes were once again drawn to other corners of the room—particularly the upper deck corner. She figured the bomb had to be there somewhere. She needed to get Ella up there. She needed a distraction—otherwise no one was getting out of here alive.


	2. Morality Clause

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“There is a stubbornness about me that never can bear to be frightened at the will of others. My courage always rises at every attempt to intimidate me.”_  
>  ― Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice

_The precinct was too quiet that evening. Chloe told herself she didn’t mind the silence, however. Years of working by herself got her accustomed to it. She used the time to catch up on case work. There were enough stacks of files sitting on her desk that would keep a person busy for a long time. She was only focused on one. This latest one at the auction. But it wasn’t the auction that rattled her—it was seeing Lucifer there._

_Chloe promised herself she wouldn’t let it bother her. She was a professional; this should be easy. Yet nothing about it was. Oh, she knew he’d be there—begrudgingly accepted that when Dan told her; actually, it was more a fathomable guess—and she even hoped there wouldn’t be any problems between them._

_Things were civil at least. But the tension had her mental state running for the door. Chloe was grateful when it was all over. Even if there was still work to be done. She just needed to get out of there. The tension was getting too much for her. She also knew she was the cause for most of that tension, which just made it worse. And on normal days, working alone would have been fine._

_When Ella walked up to her desk, Chloe was appreciative of the distraction; “So, um, if I can just get you to sign my final paperwork of the night…” She presented the detective with a small stack and stood there is total silence whilst Chloe scribbled her name down. As the folder was delivered back to her, Ella sighed. “Silent treatment. I get it. I shouldn’t have told Lucifer that stuff. It was really unprofessional and I’m so sorry…”_

_“Ella, I’m not mad at you,” Chloe responded, though the way she was talking was starting to make it clear how deeply distraught she actually was. “I just—I’ve been thinking about some things…”_

_“Is this about Lucifer?” The detective wasn’t exactly being subtle. Ella continued watching the pair interacting for years. It was obvious to her who Chloe was thinking about._

_Exhaling slowly, she quickly glanced around the corner, as though expecting someone else to be listening in. She was being a little paranoid. Settling down again, she nodded, “Yeah…” She didn’t really want to be talking about it but Ella figured her out, so she was. “I miss it. I mean, he makes me angry all the time and there are so many things about him I find hard to accept but I just know there has to be a way because… “ At that moment, it was Lucifer’s face that came to mind. No matter how hard she tried ignoring, he would always be right there and it helped her realize something: she hated the silence. “…I rather have him in my life than not.”_

_Smiling, Ella said, “Well, then, I think you know what you need to do.” She had been one of the biggest Deckerstar fans since the beginning. If there were problems in paradise, she’d push whatever parties involved back together so they could work it out._

_Chloe knew Ella was right. Maybe all she needed was that reassurance. That little push. That smile of hers was back. The one where she’d secretly laugh about one of Lucifer’s antics even though she scolded him for it to his face._

_Gathering her jacket, Chloe pushed back and quickly walked out, leaving behind a smiling Ella still rooting for her two-favorite people._

~

Chloe made her way to Lucifer and Ella; “Okay, guys, he keeps looking upstairs. I think I might have found the bomb,” she theorized, only taking a guess the bomb would be where Marco kept glancing towards.

Her attention drew to Lucifer, who was looking worse off than before. There was a more dramatic change in his breathing patten, a gradual progression to extremely fast then more sluggishly. He appeared to be breathing more with a wide-open mouth continuously. His extremities seemed cold to the touch. His lips absorbed a bluish or purple coloring and his skin seemed paler, losing color by the minute.

Lucifer started to drift unconscious. Chloe snapped her fingers in his face and gave his cheek a few goods slaps to get him alert. He started with a gentle, forced laughter as his head lolled up again. And he obliged the detective with a smile.

A woman with short blonde hair came running in, momentarily distracting Chloe. In her hand was the sandwich Marco had ordered. She ran off somewhere as Marco snatched it from her. He tore into the packaging as most people would when waiting a while for food. But, then he stopped. Something wasn’t right. He suddenly got angry and he marched over to her, sandwich in hand.

He carelessly tossed the sandwich onto the small coaster table behind Chloe. “Who the hell puts green peppers and ranch dressing on a sandwich?!” Marco pointed his gun. “You better hope that your friends are better at finding people than they are at taking food orders! Cause I’m beginning to lose my patience!” Turning away from the small group, Marco stalked off angerly.

“That doesn’t make sense,” she muttered, “Dan wouldn’t make a mistake like that…”

Lucifer smirked. “Are you sure? I once saw him eat a marble because it was in a candy dish…” He and Espinoza had this on-again-off-again friendship. He’d also never miss the chance to laugh at the expense of Chloe’s ex.

“N-No. No… Chloe’s right,” Ella declared in frazzled speech, “now’s not the time to make a mistake. I’m not gonna make a mistake. I’m just gonna defuse a bomb I’ve never seen before this crazy bomber blows us all up! I can do that right?” She was nodding very diligently, until she wasn’t and she started doubting herself. “I don’t think I can do that! I don’t think I can do that! Everything’s wrong! The sandwich is wrong!”

Chloe kept focus. “Maybe the sandwich isn’t wrong. Maybe the sandwich is a message.” She grabbed the discarded sandwich and opened it up to study the contents. Marco wouldn’t have known what it meant but if there was some kind of message, as she suspected there was, then Chloe found figure it out. “…it’s a southwestern sandwich from Luis’s. Dan sent this because I’d recognize it.” Realization dawned on her. “He’s trying to tell us they’re gonna breach from the southwest.”

“Is that a good thing?” Eve asked; she didn’t know the first thing about what any of this meant but if the detective was as resourceful as Lucifer claimed than she had no reason to distrust the woman.

Chloe nodded. “If we can get Ella to the bomb in time… then yes.” Her eyes followed Marco as the man crossed behind them but once he was gone, she looked back to the others, leaning in a tad. “If they’re following protocol, the food delivery started a countdown, which probably means we have about ten minutes until SWAT arrives. Which means we have to get the bomb taken care of before they arrive. Ella, you good?”

Ella nodded with enthusiasm. “Yeah, sure. Yeah.”

“Eve, back her up in case anything happens. You’re good at… calming her down.” Eve asked her about Lucifer, or tried to; Chloe interrupted, assuring that he was be fine. “Now we just need a distraction to get you guys up there…”

Right on cue: “Marco.” In walks Leona, his presumed ex-wife, the one he had been rambling on about to Chloe this whole time, his whole reasoning behind this entire mess.

“I can’t believe it,” he began. “You’re actually here.” He walked closer and closer to her, completely ignoring everyone else behind him.

It was the distraction Chloe was wanting. Ella started unobtrusively sneaking off, with Eve following cautiously behind her.

Leona inched her way in. “I am so sorry. I know all of this is my fault. Everything is my fault…”

“No, no…”

Lifting her hands defensively, she took another step. “Let me say this. I have made so many mistakes. You didn’t deserve what happened to you, Marco. I am so sorry…”

Leona had her arms around him at his next breath—and a knife in his gut.

Taken by surprise, Marco stumbled backwards and then collapsed. There was a collective gasp before Chloe prudently approached the other woman.

“Okay, Leona, give me the gun and the detonator,” she said, moving slowly another foot forward, “It’s okay. I’m a cop.”

The woman’s entire demeanor flipped. “Yeah, you’re a cop, and I don’t know what Marco told you so—” She raised her gun to point at Chloe. “—I can’t take any chances…”

Lucifer was seeing red.

However, as much as he’d love to teach this woman why pointing a gun at his detective was a horrible mistake, he could no long sense feeling in his legs…

“Everyone get in the corner!”

Biting down at his bottom lip, gritting through the pain, Lucifer one-arm dragged himself across the floor to where Marco lay. He was grunting and panting and losing strength by the minute yet had enough, at least, to taunt the man; “Doesn’t feel so great does it…?”

Lucifer’s vision blurred. He felt lightheaded and queasy. There was a sudden rush to his head before it felt like everything felt way too out of focus.

It was the last thing he remembered as his world faded around him.

~

_Lucifer seemed surprised when he thumbed the elevator button and he saw the detective there, leaning against one of the two side walls. She appeared, well, total relaxed if he were to put a name to it._

_He didn’t even notice right away, not until he spun round around; “Detective! This is, well, this is quite the surprise…”_

_“You said your door was always open,” Chloe muttered, “and I’m walking through it…” She then proceeded to help herself to a glass of single malt whiskey from Lucifer’s personal collection._

_He blinked. “I was actually just about to meet up with the Britany’s—” Had it been someone else, anyone else, like someone whose presence he didn’t appreciate, helping themselves to his booze, Lucifer would have turned hateful and furious. But this was Chloe. They drank together only once before and he never remembered he wanting something like whiskey. “—but, I suppose they can occupy themselves….”_

_“Great!” She exclaimed, then patted the seat next to her, “then have a seat.”_

_Normally, he’d be saying yes, but this wasn’t normal behavior. “Has something happened? I’m guessing with Dan perhaps?” It could account for her sudden appearance in the penthouse. Clearly wasted at that._

_“You mean detective douche?”_

_Lucifer snickered at such the use of nickname. “Well, yes, of course that’s what I mean but the bigger question is why do you mea—” she interrupted._

_“We weren’t even back together and he ended it with me tonight… with a text. I mean, what are we, in high school?”_

_“Well we’re certainly drinking like we are,” he quipped, having only assumed because he’d never gone to high school yet enough study of humanity over the last five years taught him how high schoolers like to party sometimes. “Why don’t you…” he took the glass from her and set it down, “…have a seat over here and tell me all about it?” Taking her by the hand, Lucifer started guiding her over to the couch._

_“I feel like such an idiot,” Chloe started, insulting herself first, “I can’t believe I let myself care for him again. I mean…why? So I get hurt?”_

_Lucifer sat them on the couch, keeping his hands on her arm so she didn’t stumble. “No. It’s because you’re a kind person who puts the needs of others ahead of your own. It’s a horrible irony that my father invented.”_

_“But you don’t do that. You take what you want.”_

_Normally, yes. “Since the beginning of time.”_

_“That’s nice…”_

_The way Chloe was looking at him—lust perhaps? Carnal desire? Clearly she wasn’t thinking logically otherwise she wouldn’t he tried leaning in to kiss him. But what surprised her more was how he refuted the offer._

_How is this possible? Lucifer never turned down a chance for sex._

_“…what’s happening here?”_

_Shocked by his own actions, he mustered an answer, “It seems I’m saying no…”_

_“But you’ve been trying to get me into bed since day one. Why are you saying no?” She was still trying to rationalize why she attempted to kiss him in the first place._

_“Frankly, my dear, I’m as baffled as you are.” He started sitting upright, just as she did. “Usually I jump at the chance to fulfill my carnal desire but…for some reason I can’t.”_

_This was the point where she might have sobered up enough to come to her senses. “Why am I here throwing myself at you? This is so sad…” Embarrassed, Chloe buried her face in her palms._

_“It happens to the best. I promise.”_

_She lifted her hand, hair falling behind her shoulders. “But not to me. I don’t do this. This is something…my mother would do…”_

_Sighing, Lucifer scooted closer, inviting her in, which she generously took. “We don’t all turn into our parents, detective. I mean, look at me. I don’t think I’ve ever been the son he wants me to be. I—” He stopped talking when he realized she was asleep, her head pillowed against his chest._

~

Leona paced around Marco, disappointed. “Is he _still_ alive?” She tightened her grip on the 9mm handle when she looked at Chloe. “He always was tougher than he was smart.”

“You were involved in the robbery.”

She scoffed. “I wasn’t _involved_ in the robbery. I _masterminded_ it,” she corrected. “This idiot and his army bros couldn’t plain a trip to the beach.”

Chloe was realizing something; “So, Marco never wanted us to find you so he could apologize. He wanted us to find you so he could take out his final partner.”

“Yeah,” Leona agreed. “It was a rather good trap. Force the police to find me. If I don’t show, he blows my cover and if I do, well—” she gestured to the detonator in her hand. Leona’s eyes drifted to Marco. “I mean, that was the plan wasn’t it? But you weren’t expecting me to play on your emotions were you, Marco? You always were such a softie!” She raised her foot to press down on the knife protruding from his abdomen.

Chloe took a step. “So, you go outside, tell them Marco apologized and they let you go? Then what… the place explodes and it’s all Marco’s fault?”

“Sounds like a pretty solid plan to me.”

“You don’t need to do this.”

Leona scoffed. “Sorry. I worked too hard to go to jail now. After rebuilding my life.”

“Do you know what kind of ordinance Marco used?” Chloe stepped closer, forcing Leona to back up even more towards the corner. This is what she had planned from the moment she figured out Dan’s message. “H-How far away you need to be before you hit the detonator? What are you gonna do with that thing after you hit the button?”

“Nice try,” Leona chided, “You’re not getting in my head that easily. You’re not gonna try to talk me down.”

“I’m not trying to talk you down,” Chloe admitted, then adopted a more serious tone, “I’m trying to get you to the southwest corner.”

The explosion took them both by surprise, but Leona more so than Chloe, who anticipated this would happen so she dove for cover. Unfortunately for Leona who hadn’t immediately done the same, she was forcefully knocked down by the blast. Both women were momentarily stunned, expect Leona was in closer juxtaposition to the detonator.

Chloe scrambled for it but it was Leona who grabbed it first. Instead of scrambling for cover, she threw herself backwards, landing across Lucifer’s body.

SWAT teams rushed in. Leona was quickly apprehended.

As Chloe came round, she lifted her head from Lucifer’s chest. “You okay?” Her fingers scarcely brushed his jawline before grasping at his shoulder.

“… you landed on my bullet wound,” he said, breathing coming in at wheezing, delayed gasps. “That was exactly the jolt of blinding pain I needed to bring me round…”

“I’m sorry.”

Barely managing another breath, he said, “No, detective, you threw yourself onto me. You were willing to sacrifice yourself to… to save me…”

He drew another breath. And then he was silent.

Chloe gave his cheek a gentle tap—once, even twice—then felt for a pulse. “Medic! Medic!” Something equivalent to a choking sob shattered in her throat when she realized there was nothing there.

Immediate care can mean the difference between life and death. Though such training varied between departments across the country, the LAPD insisted upon it. Even if they hadn’t, Chloe has a child; she would have taken life-saving courses regardless.

She began CPR immediately, pushing hard and fast on Lucifer’s chest to help maintain blood flow to his vital organs until medical personnel could take over.

The scene was cleared fairly quickly. A pair of hands reached out, latching onto her arms. She tried to resist as they tugged her back. At the same time, paramedics rushed in, inquiring a multitude of questions that blurred together in Chloe’s head. She couldn’t concentrate on them. She focused on their assessment, watched as they ripped his shirt—wanting to chuckle because she knew how much he’d complain later about that—and attach wires to his chest.

Her eyes flickered to the ECG, and then she hears, “He’s in arrest!” The medics defibbed him but nothing happened. Again, and again—yet still nothing.

Tears welled up, then began trickled down her face. Dan tugged her back, so the medics could do their work. Chloe didn’t want to leave Lucifer. She resisted.

 _Please, no, not him_ , she pleaded and begged.


	3. Hellscape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Everyone who has ever built anywhere a new heaven first found the power thereto in his own hell.”_  
>  ― Friedrich Nietzsche

Hell was an incredibly fearsome, spiritual realm of eternal suffering. Its inhabitants were demons and tortured souls of deceased sinners. It was designed so no demon could ever rule there; only a Celestial.

After being cast out of Heaven, Lucifer became Hell’s monarch for several eons until he abdicated his throne and retired, taking up residence in Los Angeles. He and his demons were responsible for all manner of torture but it was never the devil himself who decided what that form would take or who ended up there. It was always their own guilt used against them. The gates were never locked so humans could leave anytime they wanted to yet they never did. What does that say for them?

Lucifer always swore he’d never return to Hell yet he’s been back at least twice before. There were so many regrets in his mind that he knew Heaven would never be a place he’d wind up; always and forever in Hell. The first time wasn’t of his own making. Malcolm shot him. As he lay dying, Lucifer made a deal with God. He’d be the son his father always wanted him to be if he only saved Chloe. And he did.

The second time he went there was of his own doing. Once again, to save Chloe. Lucifer would always risk his own life at the cost of keeping the detective safe. He had gotten lucky, too; trapped in his own Hell with Uriel, there was a moment where they could have lost him for good.

Upon his death for the third time, Lucifer returned to Hell. The murky emptiness offered nothing but bitter silence. His right hand grazed the walls of a black rock. His feet clicked and clacked against the rocky flooring. He was home. He sauntered through Hall, brushing ash and dust and other debris from his suit. He arrived at the gates yet did not walk through—not yet; _this isn’t right_ , he thought.

Lucifer glanced over his right shoulder. Going back the way he came would be a long walk indeed. He’s still wondering how he got here. He remembered Lux. Okay, well that was a good start. He remembered _Chloe_ being at Lux. They had just finished up their last case. He remembered Eve being there. He didn’t really know what feeling awkward meant but if someone were to describe it to him, Lucifer would likely think having the two women under the same roof would have been it.

Wait a moment. There was something missing. He was definitely forgetting something. Lucifer rubbed at his abdomen for some reason. It was slowly coming back to him; Marco, the bomb, the gun—he’d be shot. He scarcely remembered the pain. Just being numb.

He only looked at the gates once more before he turned away, taking a step in the opposite direction. And then another. And another. But Lucifer didn’t take a fourth.

~

_The most affecting aspect of music is when the performance. When it’s so natural, the composition so well-crafted, that any outside listener could easily be soothed by the melody. Music was most relaxing at its simplest form. It absorbs all worries and doubts, leaving just a person in his or her most natural state._

_Lucifer was all about having music in his life; maybe that’s a reason behind the nightclub. He needed to feel the energy. He was insistent upon the grand piano, the one that took up center stage in the penthouse. Truly, there wasn’t anything better than a glass of Gentlemen’s Jack and the feeling of his fingers glossing so smoothing over the ivory keys. It became a habit of his. Playing on his Steinway. Especially before calling it a night._

_His rhythmic playing was interrupted as his cell went off. He was expecting the detective. Lucifer reached for his phone, which lay face down on the lid of his Steinway and flipped it over. **So sorry. Make-up date?** Reasonably disappointed yet Lucifer didn’t show these emotions._

_The elevator chimed. He turned, grinning, thinking for a moment it was her; “Texting from the eleva—” But it wasn’t her. Chloe was six inches over five feet tall and the figure waltzing into his penthouse was easily over six feet tall. “…who are you?”_

_The man stepped forwards, revealing his priestly robes. “My name is Father Kinley and… “ he paused, only momentarily, “…there’s something you should know about Chloe Decker.”_

_Lucifer was stunned._

_Taking his glass of Jack with him to the bar, he grabbed the bottle to refill. “Forgive me, Father, for not offering you a drink. I have an aversion to the cloth. Daddy issues. Long story…” He turned slowly, drink in hand. He was quite interested in what this man had to say._

_“I understand, and I do apologize for the intrusion, Mr. Morningstar. Please, allow me to explain myself,” Kinley stated, such a calm, collected tone._

_“Excellent course of action.”_

_Kinley stepped forward. “You see, I’m not a normal priest.”_

_“Was there ever such a thing?”_

_“I mean, I’m not a normal priest in the sense I don’t have my own congregation. I am a…” He started digging into his pocket for a business card, “…I’m an investigator. For the Vatican.”_

_Lucifer reached for the card and read it aloud. “Vatican investigator?” He scoffed then tossed the business card aside like it was nothing. “Sounds like a soon to be canceled TV show…”_

_“I assure you, it’s a very real job. I’ve spent the last forty years traveling the globe in the pursuit of the demonic. I know the divine is real. And I also know that evil walks the earth. And that you, Mr. Morningstar—”_

_Lucifer sighed. “Oh, brother, here we go…”_

_“—are not it.”_

_That was not at all what he was expecting to hear. “So if I’m not the devil, they why are you here? And what does any of this have to do with the detective?”_

_“Because Miss Decker believes that you are. About a month ago, she came to Rome with the most outlandish tale. The devil himself is hiding in plain sight, masquerading as a nightclub owner in Los Angeles, and that he’d revealed himself to her.”_

_“Well…” He scoffed, “this is wonderful news.”_

_Kinley looked almost shocked. “Wonderful? How so?”_

_“Well, as my therapist would say—I know, so LA… but she’d say that talking about your issues was the first step in dealing with them so if the detective did have issues with me, sounds like they’ve been dealt with. Now, if that’s everything, Father, then you can be on your merry way…” Lucifer started walking off, maybe giving the hint that this priest had overstayed his welcome._

_“I just felt it was my duty to warn you. Because the reason that she came to Rome was to, well, send the devil back to hell.”_

_Lucifer forced a laugh. “The detective would never do that.”_

_“Chloe is a good person with a good heart.”_

_“Finally,” he smirked, “something we can agree on.”_

_Oh, but Kinley wasn’t through yet. “But whatever she went through, whatever drove her to Rome, it shook her to her very core. She is the reason why I am here. You need to be careful, Mr. Morningstar. God knows what she has planned for you.”_

~

A voice called to him, crying out his name, stopping him mid-step. Slowly, he turned, yet he hesitated; there was something quite different. He was familiar with the voice yet the tone was so haunting.

Again, it called to him; _Lucifer…_

Spinning around was laborious, methodic, and judicious. His hand began reaching for the gates. Then he pushed it open, expecting to be welcomed by a meandering labyrinth of towering black rocky spires. But when the blinding light settled, Lucifer was greeted to another sight; Chloe’s apartment.

This was strange. Glancing around the apartment, he noticed two things: candles burning on the counter and an opened bottle of Merlot. Then he heard laugher coming from the couch. Lucifer dared to take another step, and then peak over. Set on the coffee table were two glasses of wine. He stood watching. One of them was a blonde-haired woman. He presumed Chloe. This was her place after all; it made sense. But who was the other people there with her?

She looked at him. Smiling; “Lucifer! This is a surprise,” she said, and he was also smiling at her, despite not knowing what he was doing here, or how he got here. “You’re welcome to join us.”

“…us?” His smile faded soon after. “Detective Douche…” The second person seated on the couch next to Chloe was none other than her ex-husband Dan.

Chloe tutted. “Oh come now. Dan just came by to discuss the case.” She leaned forward, reaching for her glass of Merlot on the coffee table. “You remember the one. Our final case together…” A collector of classic cars was murdered so they paired together for one last case as well as some closure to their relationship.

Yes, Lucifer remembered. She needed a vintage car in order to get into an exclusive automobile enthusiasts club for a particular case, and he so happened to own a classic Aston Martin.

She rose from the couch to pour him a glass. “Here..” Chloe handed him the glass. He seemed almost reluctant to accept, at first. They were soon joined by Dan caring the other two glasses. “A toast. To a job well done… and to Lucifer’s final case…”

He was new to this whole thing. What was he meant to do? Dan and Chloe clinked their glasses together so he followed suit, then took a sip. In the midst of the wine gushing down his throat, his eyes caught a sight most peculiar to him—Chloe snuggling up close to Dan.

“There is something else…” She paused, and if Lucifer’s heart were still beating, it would for sure break as Chloe lifted up her right hand, showing off her wedding band, the one he thought she took off and would never be caught dead wearing ever again. “Dan and I decided to give this marriage thing another try.”

Oh. This was. Well… “Oh, well, I suppose this makes sense—considering your little urchin you share together. Family and all,” he nervously chuckled. He didn’t care much for Dan but Chloe meant a lot to him. Her happiness was better than his ego.

Lucifer distracted himself with another sip of wine. That’s when the coughing started. It began gradually, like a tickle in the back of his throat or something.

This slowly intensified. 

He didn’t quite realize where this was coming from. He gripped at the collar of his maison margiela, loosening up the first two buttons. It did nothing to alleviate his problem. Lucifer gripped at his throat. He stared at the glass of wine as a horrible realization dawned on him—he was poisoned.

Staring at Chloe and Dan, another truth hit him. The intense look in her eyes. Such soulless emotion. There was no remorse. The glass dropped from his hand and shattered on the floor. Lucifer stumbled back until he was met with the counter’s edge. His right arm flailed out, knocking over the wine bottle, spilling the remaining Merlot onto the kitchen floor.

Chloe reached into her pocket, pulling out a vial. It was the same vial Father Kinley had given her when she flitted off to Europe for a month. Lucifer’s eyes widened—he was beginning to understand what was happening. He started losing him balance. His knees went first, and then his legs, and he tried gripping at the counter for some support but his efforts did nothing. There he sat on the floor, one leg curled inward, the other stretched out in front of him. He kept trying to breathe but it was difficult. They were massive gulps of air that just turned into breathless gasps.

She crouched; “You are the _devil_ , Lucifer, and you must be returned to Hell where you belong.”

Every story throughout history portrayed him as the literal embodiment of all evil. The cause of all mankind’s sufferings since the dawn of time. He was well-known as the father of lies—in that fact, he was the original fraudster. He planted the seed of doubt in Eve’s mind and contradicted God’s word by telling her that she wouldn’t die. Lying was his primary weapon. He exploited tactics of deceit to separate people from what was good and true in the world.

Small or large—it didn’t matter. Lies were because of the devil. Because of Lucifer. And here she was, Chloe Decker, yet another pawn in his chaotic weave of duplicity. This is why she first decided to go along with Kinley’s plan. She pretended everything was normal. Hoping she could lure him into a false sense of security. She hadn’t planned on him finding the poison in her person and confronting her with knowing what she was going to do. Minor setback at the most.

Lucifer recognized what was happening yet felt powerless against it. One of Hell’s methods of torture was using what someone loved against them.

She stood up, pocketing the vial. “Now I can be sure you won’t deceive anyone again…”

Chloe offered him a smirk, one of cruelty and malleolus and Lucifer knew in his heart this was not the detective he loved. This was someone different. His own hell. His torture. Then she was kissing Dan. He was responding to her and their passionate was as if they were never separated to begin with.

Lucifer’s chest felt incredibly tight, like someone was bearing down with a considerable amount of weight on his sternum. He gingerly reached a hand out, only for Chloe to bat it away in disgust.

His vision became impaired and out of focus. It was foggy and grainy. Lucifer could scarcely see more than a foot in front of him anymore. He could barely move at all. His lips were numb. His breathing was closer to grating nails on a chalkboard.

Sputtering, he started crawling for the front door. Lucifer couldn’t get extremely far. The poison was working. It was meant to sedate him; not to kill him. 

Suddenly, he found himself laying flat on his back, eyes staring up into nothing. What he was feeling eventually faded into a dull throbbing sensation until he felt nothing at all. He no longer had control over his limbs. Only his eyes moved, yet his hearing was sharp. Another person had joined them. He was cloaked in shadows. Lucifer couldn’t see who it was until the person was in view.

It was Father Kinley—the former Vatican priest whose idea it was to send him back to Hell. He genuinely believed he was protecting the world from evil. He blamed Lucifer for the Nazis and the Chicago fire and Malcolm’s murders—the latter really being Amenadiel—and honestly believed the devil’s appearance alone is what caused these events.

Kinley had a rosary in hand and started quoting biblical scripture. The exorcism revolved around a single passage in the Roman Ritual. He moved onto the beseeching method, pleading with God to release the possessed. _But, I’m not possessed_ , Lucifer’s brain was crying, _I’m the actual devil._

His last image was of Chloe staring down at him, smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted this chapter to be longer but once I reached a certain point, my brain just switched off and I couldn't think of what else to write so I figured this was a decent stopping point. I'll try to make the next chapter longer :)


	4. Perspective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Your strength doesn't come from winning. It comes from struggles and hardship. Everything that you go through prepares you for the next level.”_  
>  ― Germany Kent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The amount of love I’ve gotten over the last few chapters has been great. I was so worried this short fic wouldn’t come out well since I’ve only ever seen the show one time. Surprisingly, decent recollection huh? Lol – confession time: I did have to go back to the scenes in episodes I used in order to get some of the dialogue right so, not all of it was done by memory.

_The axe flew from Maury’s hands just as Chloe had her gun positioned. She didn’t think about the angle of the projectile or the precision in the cameraman’s aim. A blur passed in front of her so quickly that she narrowly missed her shot. The axe embedded itself in the wooden pillar on her right. Thank God her 9mm was more accurate than Maury’s aim._

_Chloe lowered her service weapon as two police officers and a security guard swarmed in. Once it was holstered on her hip, she walked around the other side of the pillar, having noticed Lucifer just—standing there. Why wasn’t he moving?_

_Her breath came in gasps when she saw what appeared to be the axe protruding from his arm; “Lucifer, oh my god…” In her distraction with Maury, Chloe hadn’t realized it was Lucifer who had jumped between them._

_“That’s a bit of an oxymoron…” He laughed, though clearly in pain or shock; he couldn’t really tell which one at the moment. Perhaps just the shock of it hadn’t quite hit him yet._

_Chloe peeked at the axe. The way the handle was protruding, the way the blade appeared to be coming out of Lucifer’s shoulder--she was expecting to see a massive amount of hemorrhaging. “It’s just your jacket…” She was both astonished and pleased it wasn’t an unhappier sight. “…you’re okay.” She wiggled the axe just a smidge until she worked it free of the pillar._

_“Hardly. This is the second suit I’ve ruined,” he chuckled, offering up some light-hearted humor given their situation presently. “Are **you** okay?”_

_That axe did not immediately drop from her hands. She held onto it just a little while longer. Having such a decision between life and death itself. Chloe didn’t bring it down on him, not for a killing blow, but—she was curious about something. It was about something he said earlier to her. About being vulnerable. She still didn’t understand it much herself._

_Chloe exhaled; her breath was shaky. The blade pressed against Lucifer’s chest. He remained immobile, save for those moments he would breathe and the axe would move slightly with each exhale. Her eyes felt moist. And weak. What was she thinking? An outside observer might think she was being crazy. But they wouldn’t know Lucifer. The real Lucifer—the Devil._

_She lifted her eyes to see his face, so she could look him in the eyes, and asked, “If I pushed this into your chest, it would kill you?” Those eyes—wild and free, so attractive and soothing and untamed._

_“…yes,” he responded._

_Chloe swallowed hard. “Because I’m close to you?”_

_“Yes…”_

_“…but you jumped in front of it anyway?”_

_Lucifer drew another breath. “Yes, and I would do it again, and again—don’t you know that, detective?” He spoke quite calmly, visually absorbing that look in her eyes. She had the most intoxicatingly innocent eyes he’s ever seen in a person before. As cliché as it sounded, the first thing Lucifer ever noticed was her eyes._

_Chloe carefully removed the axe—but looked absolutely horrified when she see the laceration in Lucifer’s chest caused by the blade. It dropped at her feet and she sputtered apologies from her lips._

_She quickly realizing the terrible mistake she made. She would go to Father Kinley and she would tell him she no longer wished to go along with the plan. Understanding that Lucifer was willing to risk his life to save hers had changed her mind._

~

Much like Chloe, Dan was also a homicide detective living in Los Angeles. The pair were married once upon a time and now share custody of daughter Trixie. Though initially difficult, they figured out how to balance both a professional and platonic relationship. Not unlike his relationship he had with Lucifer, who constantly managed to get underneath his skin with such degrading nicknames like Detective Douche. He didn’t much care for the connection this nightclub owner had to Chloe, either, or how close he was getting to Trixie.

Dan blamed Lucifer for Charlotte’s death, even though the man had nothing to do with it and it was all Pierce’s fault. This caused him to become exceedingly acrimonious and deluded. In spite of all his negative feelings towards the man, Dan was still willing to stand up against Malcolm when the latter wanted to kill him. The men had their moments of normalcy. For his ex-wife’s sake—at least—Dan made an effort at a convivial relationship.

His mind pre-worked the types of crime scenes he’d be walking into long before getting there. He was aware of two key things: there would always be a murderer and there would always be a dead body. Dan was so insensitive to the spectacle of staring at the deceased that none of that phased him anymore. It was the follow up conversations with their loved ones or friends that always still got to him. People like Chloe, who had been isolated away from everyone for the past fifteen minutes.

After excusing himself from conversing with SWAT, Dan warily approached her; “Well, I found out Marco never really wanted to apologize for the bank robbery. He wanted to kill Leona out of revenge…”

“…just like he killed the other two,” Chloe added, “for leaving him behind to get arrested on his own. She masterminded the whole robbery. Leona was planning to escape alive and wanted blow up Lux, killing everyone inside, then blame it all on Marco.” She already knew that; Leona told her.

“Right.” Dan pocketed his hands. His ex-wife never looked up, not once. She continued staring at the ground at a small pool of blood—Lucifer’s blood. “Hey, Chlo, I’m thinking that maybe… maybe you should sit this one out,” he suggested, his tone reflecting empathy he never thought he’d ever been feeling for someone he almost constantly butted heads with.

Chloe shook her head. “No, I-I can’t.” Her focus was too much right now on this case to let her emotions get the best of her no matter how much she felt like crumbling. Not even the stray tear she let slip from her right eye was going to sway her. “I’m already part of this case.”

“Seriously, I got the case. Go home. Get yourself cleaned up.” He wasn’t oblivious; just too caring of her mental wellbeing to have her at the scene right now.

He had gestured to the blood on her shirt. “This… this—it’s nothing.” _No, it’s not nothing; but if I fall apart now, I won’t be able to stop_.

“Chloe, I-I… look, I wasn’t a fan of the guy alright?”

Her brows furrowed. “You have not once failed to make me _aware_ , Daniel. I know you and Lucifer didn’t always get along but he was partner, my _friend_ , and I—” She wanted to add something else but she knew her ex would in no way wholly comprehend the gravity of her feelings concerning Lucifer.

“Yeah, you’re right, Chlo. Okay, so we didn’t always get along but I made an effort okay? I was always going to be wary of some guy who, five years ago, didn’t exist, hanging around my ex-wife and daughter. I have a right to know who you have in Trixie’s life.”

 _Oh, god—Trixie; how will I explain this to her?_ “Yes, okay, Lucifer had faults but in his own way, he—Dan, I’m not going to argue with you alright? Regardless of how _you_ felt about him, Trixie adored him.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry and—” Dan sighed. He knew how much Lucifer meant to Chloe. It was painful for him to see someone he cared about in pain. “—I’m sorry, okay? Look, I wish this didn’t happen. I’m the one responsible for hurting you once already and I see now how much working with Lucifer meant to you, my own personal feelings aside—”

Chloe opened her mouth just to tell him to stop talking; she didn’t want to hear it; Dan and Lucifer almost never got along a majority of the time. Though, she never did tell him anything.

She became distracted.

The much-appreciated interruption came in the form of a paramedic walking towards then, looking for the detective in general. “You are Detective Chloe Decker correct?”

“Yes,” she was grateful not to be looking at Dan right now. “Yes, right, I’m Detective Decker. Tell me, is Marco Franklin going to make it?” Chloe had nothing but bitter contentment for that man right now. If he lived, she’d be the one arresting him for murder and she’d feel absolute satisfaction over it.

The paramedic politely shrugged. “He was semi-conscious when my colleague wheeled him out but I’m told the wound is non-fatal.” Since he wasn’t the one on scene, his extent of Marco’s status was only what he already informed the detective of.

“A police officer will be following you to the hospital,” Chloe asserted, trying to keep herself calmed so her blood pressure didn’t rise. “Once Mr Franklin is stabilized, he will be placed under arrest for assault with a deadly weapon, conspiracy to commit an act of domestic terrorism, and murder in the second degree…” That last bit is what made her chest tight.

While Marco made it clear to her he wasn’t there to hurt anyone, it didn’t change the fact someone was dead—that someone being Lucifer. If only Chloe had ended things with Leona much sooner than she did. Or done the same with Marco. Knowing he was vulnerable when she was close to him just made the guilt in her heart that much worse.

The paramedic bobbed his head. “…Lucifer Morningstar--he’s the owner of this nightclub isn’t he?” The young man saw the red rings around Chloe’s eyes and gathered the two were close but didn’t presume to press with questions about it.

 _I am not prepared for this..._ “Yes, sir.” Just for a moment, she was experiencing what could only be explained as pity.

There was a lot of history with the nightclub, as Lucifer once claimed. He also told her about the prohibition tunnels beneath the establishment. According to him, Howard Hughes would sneak his mistresses through there—if only to avoid his other mistresses. A woman by the name of Eleanor Bloom once purchased the building and wanted it demolished but Chloe was able to get some strings pulled. Thus, the building was deemed a heritage site and therefore protected.

It had been his home for years; there was no way she would allow someone to just kick him out. Lux meant so much to Lucifer. In a way, Chloe had developed a fondness for it as well. Rantings of a drunken woman who woke up naked in his bed notwithstanding. 

“With such massive hemorrhaging; I wasn’t sure we would be able to bring him back,” The paramedic was so used to delivering bad news that it was rare for him to deliver anything good; “but we were able to successfully resuscitate him.”

Dan looked more surprised by this news than Chloe did. “Is he coherent enough to talk?” The paramedic responded with a gentle nod. “We’ll need to get a statement from him about what happened, build a case against Marco and Leona—Chloe! Where are going?! Wait, Chloe!” He cried out after her.

But she had already taken off.

~

_Lucifer and Chloe had shackled themselves up together in the conference room. Not literally, no; they were busy pouring over crime scenes photos of Sid Kluge._

_Something didn’t add up—not to Chloe, who hummed her lips together, then stated, “No way it’s a coincidence that our number one suspect in Derek’s murder turns up dead hours later. There has to be a connection…”_

_“I really have forgotten how much fun this is,” Lucifer muttered, as if he hadn’t even paid attention to what Chloe was saying. But he gotten her attention, “You solving puzzles, me trying to distract you, one of us trying to come up with an insight—”_

_The door to the conference room swings open. Ella comes barreling in; “Found it!”_

_“—that breaks the case…”_

_So much for that._

_“Not only found it. I think..” she tossed some paperwork onto the desk; it made a smacking sound against the tempered glass and metal, “…I solved it.”_

_“What?” Chloe questioned._

_Ella pointed to a picture atop the stack but it wasn’t the picture itself that was the cause of intrigue; it was the subjects of the photo. “There’s Derek, Sid. And you recognize that third guy?”_

_“Yeah,” Chloe reached for the photo, “one of the witnesses we talked to.”_

_Ella added another file onto the tag. “Yeah, Marco Franklin.” Paperclipped to the outside of the manilla folder was a mug shot of their guy. “All three of them served in the Explosives Ordnance division in Iraq. But wait, there’s more. Marco was just released from prison two days ago after serving a nine-year sentence for bank robbery. He bombed his way into the vault, got caught coming out and, drum roll, it is suspected he had two other accomplices, never apprehended.”_

_Chloe was following, and she had a potential theory. “So, Sid and Derek were his partners. He gets caught, they don’t. Maybe they double-crossed him so he’s out—”_

_“—looking for closure,” Lucifer added, and he shared a terse glance at the detective._

_“Call it whatever you want,” Ella added, “I call it solved!”_

_Solved? No, not quite, but maybe Chloe was choosing to drag this out. “That’s a great theory, but, right now, that’s all it is. We have no proof, so the killer could be anyone…”_

_“Agreed,” Lucifer concurred; clearly, something was on his mind, “This doesn’t really feel like closure to me.” He was all about wanting to get to the conclusion rather quickly but yet, something about this case had his mind racing._

_Chloe shook her head. “It doesn’t.”_

_“There must be more.”_

_“Witnesses saw a man matching Marco’s description attacking Sid in front of his apartment,” Ella pointed out. She wasn’t noticing those subtle glances between the detective and Lucifer, else she might be curious enough to wonder what was going on._

_“Circumstantial.”_

_“Agreed.”_

_Ella chuckled. “Decker, you are putting me through the ringer! Respect. But, I got you beat. The striations on the shell casings found at the scene match Marco’s 9mm. I made sure all the bases were covered for you.” With a mock-explosion sound effect, Ella mimicked a mic drop._

_“We still have to pick him up!” Chloe quickly chimed in._

_And Lucifer jumped onboard. “Yes, until the suspect’s in custody, the case isn’t truly closed is it?”_

_“Way ahead of you,” Ella pipped up._

_He rolled his eyes. “Oh, for crying out loud…”_

_Couldn’t she see they were trying to stall? It was obvious to both Lucifer and Chloe that no matter how much they talked about this being their final case together, there were heavy doubts._

_“Dan helped me with the records. He’s on his way to Marco’s address now with some unis.” She raised her hands up slightly, palm side facing upward. “Nothing left for us to do now, folks, but get our party on.” Ella wriggled her hips and gave a light gyration of her mid-section. “What are you guys thinking? I feel like dancing. I’m gonna go change!”_

_Out the door she ran, and Lucifer couldn’t be happier for it. Chloe, on the other hand, felt defeated. There were always going to be cases that went unsolved but this just felt so final, and not because all the pieces seemed to fall into place perfectly._

_“Lucifer, we can still—” He interrupted her._

_“No,” his tone seemed pretty final, “Detective, I think this is best for me and for everyone. I just want to say… great last case. Great partnership…”_

_Chloe sighed, studying his outstretched hand for a long time, judging internally if she wanted to take it. If she did take it, that was it; this really was the end. Their final case. She knew they could benefit from moving on—Heaven and Hell knows she couldn’t blame Lucifer; not after what she did—just as she knew there would be other cases in the future. Just not with him. Who knows though—they might just stumble into other one day, smile as the other waltzed by, and reflect back on their times shared together._

_She met Lucifer’s brown eyes and knew she would be remembering them for years to come. They reminded her of mahogany—comforting and tough, in a way to let her know he would always be that support structure whenever she needed. It pained her heart to think she might not ever see them again. Not so soon anyway. Chloe knew she needed them in her life._

_She needed Lucifer. But, like all good things, their partnership must come to an end. She accepted his hand but she wasn’t happy about it. And the grief Chloe sensed beneath her sternum as she watched Lucifer walk out that door felt too uneasy for her._

~

Chloe thought about it the whole walk over; what she would say, how she would say it. Mostly, she was just trying to make sure she didn’t start crying again. She used the cuff of her deep brown forever lambskin leather moto jacket to dot at her eyelids. This wasn’t really about _her_ ; she shouldn’t be getting emotional—or, so she kept telling herself over and over.

 _Keep it together, Chloe._ Having to repeat a mantra like that was the only thing to keep herself grounded. The walk over felt more like a long march to a room for lethal injection. Just, stick a needle in her arm, pull the lever, pump her blood with a high enough dose of pentobarbital, and let it be done with.

She wished that all that could happen when she finally set her sights on him—and noticed Eve standing right beside him, stealing gentlemen jack into his saline drip. Eve wasn’t someone Chloe despised or hated. She just thought the woman was too much of an energetic party girl, out of touch with humanity, and often too much with a child-like mentality for her own good.

Just as Eve was closing up the saline drip, Lucifer was noticing Chloe; “Detective! Fancy seeing you here.” His hair was disheveled, his face still void of its full color, and an aching pain in his abdomen that wouldn’t go away—yet, he knew these would get better; his attention was on the detective.

She almost avoided looking straight at him—at first. “How are you feeling?”

“I started feeling better the moment I got out onto the street,” came his response, “Funny that. Also, I have an excellent nurse.” He gave Eve’s shoulder a tiny pat.

Despite the need to stay close to Lucifer right now, Eve could understand and recognize the tension between him and the detective.

“I’ll give you two a moment.”

Chloe thanked her just as she was wondering off, then she exhaled, breathing shakily, “So, I, um… I wanted to make sure you were okay and, about this being your last case…” she started to break again. “…well, I just wanted you to know that I understand how you’re feeling.”

“And now I understand how you feel as well, detective,” Lucifer empathized. “And, for what it’s worth, I think I’ve got my closure…”

She turned away so he would see how her eyes became inflamed with sopping wet tears. “Good…”

Lucifer wasn’t really wanting this to be their last case though. He thought it would be doing him some good to get some closure when all it really did was further generate his desire to keep working closely with the detective and the LAPD—but mostly Chloe.

His exhale was slow and deliberate. “For our next case, try not to bring a trigger-happy murderer to one of my parties. It kills the buzz.”

“You still want to be partners?” The revelation was just wanted she wanted—nay, _needed_ —to hear. Truth be told, the precinct just wouldn’t be the same without his boisterous presence there.

A pair of paramedics walked up, taking the stretcher by hand to lift it into the back of the ambulance. Lucifer and Chloe, however, never lost eye contact with each other.

He smiled, “Oh, you know me, detective. I go off and do something dramatic only to realize I’m right where I’m supposed to be.”

Chloe got a chuckle at his expense. She needed it though. Her entire night had been one emotional hell over another. If anything, it put into perspective something she couldn’t live without-- _Lucifer_. There were no right words for this guilt weighing on her chest and she probably never would be able to absolve herself of those sins but there was no reason not to start trying.

She was joined once again by Eve. Chloe barely even noticed when the raven-haired beauty was at her side again because she had been far too focused on the closure of the bay doors and the all-too-familiar whirling lights and sounds of the truck. It pulled off and she watched it go, until it got smaller, and smaller, and finally dipped around a corner.

Eve could sense something amiss with the detective. Be it divine or womanly intuition, she _knew_ Chloe cared for Lucifer a great deal. It was evident. “You see, Chloe, he was right about you. You’re resourceful.” Maybe there was something else there as well that she just chose to ignore or that she was too naïve about the human mind to understand; but, she knew Lucifer, and she knew Chloe, and she also knew she had this detective to thank for Lucifer being here. “I owe you for saving his life.”

“Lives were on the line,” she stated, as if merely saving just _one_ life—Lucifer’s—was insignificant. “Human lives were in jeopardy. It’s my duty to save them.”

“Was it duty or devotion you showed him?”

Chloe looked her up and down as if sizing her up. Her throat clenched. She felt almost as fearful as she did back in that bar.

Glancing back at what was now an empty space, and where the ambulance vanished to, she said, “Come on, I’ll drive.” Her hand was already reaching into her right pants pocket for her car keys.


	5. Sweetened Devotion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“I come here with no expectations, only to profess, now that I am at liberty to do so, that my heart is and always will be...yours.”_  
>  ― Jane Austen, Sense and Sensibility

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is definitely longer than the last one. I guess I had more to tell within this chapter than I first thought, lol, but this isn't necessarily a bad thing. I'm also hoping to do at _least_ one more chapter, maybe two. It all depends if I feel there's more story to tell. I mean, this was supposed to be a one-shot but as you can see, that clearly did not happen.

The nearest hospital to Lux was Southern California Hospital in Culver City, located between Sony Pictures Studios and Culver City Hall, approximately five point nine miles going south, but six point eight with light traffic. At this time of night, there shouldn’t be any. The easiest way to get there was to head southwest on West Sunset Boulevard towards North Kings road and turn left onto North La Cienega Boulevard.

Domino’s Pizza would have been on the left-hand side, about half a mile up. Roughly eighty-nine feet more, and another right, there was Nobu, a Japanese restaurant at the last intersection of Willoughby Avenue. She much rather cook at home when the Lobster Shiitake Salad was sixty-eight dollars and the Jonny Walker Blue Label Highland Blend cost more than the jacket she wore.

Barton G’s was just across the street. Supposedly this place was an award-winning experiential restaurant that served a contemporary American menu. Famous as it was, the place was expensive; Chloe took a gander at the menu once; the prices made her cringe. Their signature martini was thirteen bucks, their truffled lobster trap mac n cheese—for two—was ninety, and they wanted six-nine dollars for the fourteen-ounce kerwee angus New York strip.

Chloe kept thinking about food as she passed these restaurants because it was better than the alternative right now. Food was a distraction. It was also a reminder that she hadn’t eaten since breakfast. As if the grumble in her belly wasn’t enough of one. This distraction also made Chloe realize their drive had been luxuriated in complete reticence since leaving the crime scene.

It’s not that she didn’t have anything to say; she didn’t know _what_ to say. All she had to do was keep her eyes on the road. _Keep focus, Decker_.

North La Cienega Boulevard would turn into South, and then North again, and finally South once more. She made a left-hand turn and then an immediate right onto West Eighteen Street. But instead of making a right onto South Fairfax Avenue, Chloe kept driving.

She hadn’t realized her mishap until they reached the corner of South Stanley Avenue and Ellsmere Avenue. Maybe she did know she was going in the wrong direction and just spaced out. They could have taken either a right or a left, but Chloe’s cruiser remained stalled there at the corner. She white-knuckled the steering wheel and immediately began crying the tears she had been struggling to contain since the shooting. And they just wouldn’t stop.

The vehicles behind them started piling up. “Chloe…” A navy blue 2015 Jeep Cherokee—at least, she thought it was but who could tell in such horrid lighting conditions—started honking at them. “Chloe!” Either the detective was completely oblivious or she just chose not to notice. The line of vehicles was joined by another, and soon more than one was honking, and a few angry drivers had rolled down their windows. Their colorful language did not upset her.

Something inside Chloe’s brain snapped.

The most obvious reason for feeling guilty was knowing she had done something wrong, such as directly or indirectly causing someone physical or psychological pain. This horrible, aching sensation in her chest or that incessant throb in her heart, the one always screaming at her for being so callous with Lucifer’s life. Guilt could be intertwined with shame, however, it didn’t carry the same connotation. Chloe felt shame because she felt remorse for her actions but guilt because she knew she couldn’t take it back.

Lucifer didn’t lie. That was fact. She allowed herself to be manipulated by Father Kinley into believing otherwise and it could have caused her everything. She wasn’t crying _just_ because of tonight; she was crying because of the implications it would have meant; she was crying because she’d have to drag herself into work every day afterward and know that Lucifer would never be walking through those doors, never be delivering one of his witty remarks, never stealing Dan’s pudding from the fridge; Chloe was crying because she wouldn’t be able to do that without the eventual breakdown.

And it would have been her own guilt that would have eventually destroyed her. Maybe not right away but it would be gradual. Days from now, weeks from now, maybe even years—but Chloe’s guilt would eat her alive one little piece at a time.

Another honking vehicle finally snapped her from her stupor. Glancing over at Eve sitting there in the passenger seat, Chloe dotted at her eyes with her sleeve, first; “Hey, what’s going on, hm?”

“I, I’m sorry. This isn’t like me. I’ll be alright…” The grip she had on her steeling wheel only _barely_ loosened when Eve reached for her hand. “Just, a little shaken up I guess. I’m a homicide detective; most of the cases I deal with involve people who are already dead.”

Eve looked befuddled. “Were you expecting something different…?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. Perhaps. I don’t know.” Chloe scratched at her forehead then the back of her neck, further ignoring the cars laying on their horns behind them. “No. Of course not. Lucifer, he—” Eve interrupted, taking some of the pressure off of Chloe.

“I get it. Lucifer is your friend, your partner. He means a lot to you.” She might never know the complexity of these emotions; the detective, however, was making it clear to Eve that she didn’t need some kind of lesson. She knew how she missed Lucifer so basing her own feelings from that, it was easy enough to deduce Chloe’s feelings.

Chloe—briefly—cast a softened, heartbreaking glance at Eve. “If only you could know… what I’ve done—what I tried to do…” She cut herself off from continuing that line of dialogue, choosing to look ahead at the road instead of directly at the woman in her passenger seat.

Taken aback, Eve asked; “Tried t—Chloe, what are you talking about…?”

She lifted her head again, fixed her eyes on the other woman. Confession happened when a person accepted the mistakes and wrongdoings they’ve committed. Chloe wondered if admitting her sins to Eve would help to absolve her soul.

Just as she started to open her mouth to talk, her cell rang—a familiar tune from one of her daughter’s favorite Disney films. Chloe hated it but it was the well-timed interruption she needed. As much as confessing her role in plotting against Lucifer would start to make her feel better, she’s not sure if Eve is the one she should be confessing this to.

Chloe exhaled sharply before answering. “Hey, Monkey.” Her daughter had been at Linda’s that night. Chloe was grateful the therapist-turned-close-friend was available to babysit. “Is everything going well with Miss Linda? You minding her okay?” Then she heard some sniffles, which worried her even more. “Baby girl, what is it? Why does it sound like your crying…?” Chloe tried not to sigh but it came out anyway. “Yeah, baby, mommy-- listen, I’m gonna be late tonight. I’m really sorry…” Disappointing Trixie is the last thing she ever wanted. But her daughter knew that mommy’s job sometimes kept her out late, despite what Chloe wanted. And she wasn’t about to tell Trixie what happened so she could avoid frightening her daughter. “This case—it went on longer than I thought.”

There was a sigh; definitely a sigh; a frustrated one, too. _“We’re supposed to finish The Frog Prince. You promised…”_

It pained Chloe’s heart to hear the disappointment in Trixie’s voice. “I know, monkey. I know. And you know what? Mommy is deeply sorry about that. But I will make it up to you. Chocolate pancakes for breakfast tomorrow. That sounds good right?” Chocolate was something her daughter loved. Pancakes weren’t something made often in her household. While the phone was in one hand, she pulled down the sun visor with the other to check herself in the mirror. "Okay, I need to go. Mommy loves you so much.” Hanging up the phone, she slips it back into her pocket. “Trixie, she’s-she’s my daughter. Just turned eleven two weeks ago. She, um…” Chloe may have been grateful that her child called at an opportune time but that didn’t liberate her completely. She shouldn’t have even started saying anything.

Eve knew what lies were; she sensed one. “…you lied to her—about the club, about Lucifer…”

“I didn’t lie to her,” Chloe attempted to explain, “I just… didn’t tell her the whole truth. I, just—” she exhaled, heavily. It spoke volumes. “—I didn’t tell her about Lucifer because I didn’t want her to be upset. I don’t know what it is with those two but Trixie loves him.”

~

_“Detective Decker,” It was Father Kinley; his voice reverberated surprised, “I got your text. I thought we were meeting at the penthouse?”_

_Chloe exhaled. “Yes. That’s what I wanted to chat with you about. Right, um…” She took a moment to compose her thoughts and regulate her breathing. “I had to postpone my date with Lucifer until we solve this case.” Was that really all the truth though? Chloe wanted to go on a date with him – really – but this ache in her chest kept warning her this was not the way. “Didn’t want work getting in the way of me roofying the Devil.” She chuckled nervously._

_“Oh, Chloe, you’re just stalling, aren’t you?” Kinley saw through her, like he saw through most fronts; this was yet another one. “Are you having second thoughts?”_

_Chloe nodded, immediately. “Yes. Everything you’ve told me about Lucifer—” Kinley interjected._

_“You’re finding it hard to believe.”_

_“Yeah. Being around him again, I just don’t see the same monster that you do.”_

_“Of course you don’t.”_

_“Have you met him?” She challenged. It would be easy for a priest to judge the Devil. She judged Lucifer the moment she met him. Working alongside him for years warmed her to him. “Have you had a conversation with him?”_

_Kinley shook his head. “No. No, I—I’m sure he’s the most magnetic individual you ever met. Charming and eloquent. Funny. Kind, even.”_

_“Yeah, he is.”_

_“It’s all an act.” He saw that same look before, heard the same denial. “Now, listen to me, Chloe. The Devil has been manipulating human beings since the beginning of time. If you don’t respond favorably to something, well, he’ll make an adjustment until you do. Anything to make sure he gets what he wants. Because the only person that he is interested in is himself.”_

_Chloe shook her head; she didn’t want to believe him. “But he… he seems so real.”_

_“Yes. Listen, that’s what he does. That’s what he’s been doing for thousands of years. Perfecting. Why do you think that’s why they call him the Prince of lies?”_

_“No. No—no. Lucifer always tell the truth. Always.” Hearing such nonsense made her sick. Chloe knew him better than that. “He does not lie.”_

_Kinley countered; “What if this is the biggest lie of them all?”_

~.~.~.~.~

Another driver pulled up behind them in a white 2006 Subaru Outback. The driver laid on the horn for an uncomfortable amount of time, shaking both Chloe and Eve from their momentary reprieve. Checking herself once more in the mirror, drying her cheeks well, she pulled off right onto Ellsmere and then another right onto Highway one-eight-seven. From there, it would be a straight shot down the road, about one point three miles, before taking another left onto Culver Boulevard.

Southern California Hospital had been seeing the residents of LA and Culver City since the day they first opened their doors as an eight-bed clinic in 1925. Now with a combined capacity reaching over 570 beds, this hospital was only the fourth largest in all of the Los Angeles region.

The ambulance would have docked outside the emergency doors. Paramedics would have taken Lucifer into the nearest open room. Marco would have come through here as well. Chloe also took notice of the two patrol cars parked outside. They would have driven behind the ambulance that took Marco. Since she was here, she would need to find out which room he was being kept in. Chloe wanted to personally see to it that she was the one Marco spoke with. And she promised herself she would restrain that knawing feeling to beat his face in.

Once inside the building, Chloe power walked to the front desk, flashing her LAPD badge at the receptionist sitting behind her computer; “Detective Decker, LAPD. There were two men recently brought in—Marco Franklin and Lucifer Morningstar. They were involved in the incident at Lux.” Her nails drummed against the countertop; she was nervous, frazzled, and failing to keep herself under control.

The receptionist looked up. She was an older woman, older than Chloe. Her skin was wrinkly, especially around her eyes, her hair was streaked with silver, and her lips seemed thin. Behind her thick black coke-bottle glasses were greyish-blue eyes. They looked sad. Nauseating so. Chloe recognized that look; the one she saw in every person who spent too many years on the job, seeing too many of their friends, workmates, random strangers they dedicated their lives saving—all dying off one by one.

Chloe squinted her eyes at the name tag; “Pa-Pamela, yes? Ma’am, it’s important I know the status of these men okay? Mr. Franklin, he’s a suspect and Mr. Morningstar… he—” The woman named Pamela interrupted.

“Yes, yes, one moment.” The woman vanished into her computer, briefly, typing energetically away at the scissor keyboard, her manicured nails clicking away. “Yes, right. Marco Franklin—he’s been taken into OR for surgery. We have two units posted outside the door and they’ll be following him to his room once he’s out. Mr. Morningstar, Morningstar—ah! Yes, here we are. Lucifer Morningstar—preliminary reports upon arrival state he’s stable but doctors had him taken in for a CT scan to identify the extent of the hemorrhage. If you’d like, you’re welcome to have a seat, detective, and I’ll have a physician talk to you soon.” The older woman gestured to the waiting area in the corner.

The reception area housed four pairs of Atlantic Loveseats, two glass Parkside end tables, a mahogany Compass coffee table, three Four Pocket magazine wall racks, a Color Swathe painting hanging on the wall above one of the loveseats, and a 50-inch Sony mounted on the other wall. Chloe hardly bothered to notice the re-runs of Dukes of Hazard playing.

She gave Eve a gentle nudge then mouthed her gratitude to the receptionist. The women trudged to the waiting area and took a seat. One of them appeared more frazzled and unfocused than the other. Chloe tried taking a breath in, attempting to comfort herself with other things.

Everywhere she looked, people were whispering. A non-sensical person would think they were whispering about her. And what she’d done. They were her guilt coming back to haunt her. And there was no denying the fact she probably deserved it. Chloe tried looking at the floor. If she could commit the tile layout to memory, it might just overlap the nauseating dread. There was no way her brain would allow it though. This is what led to her breakdown on the ride over and why she almost—

The flipping of magazines took her out of her distraction. Picking her head up, Chloe noticed that Eve had grabbed one of the magazines from the pocket wall rack. She didn’t happen to notice the cover, however. Sighing, she dug into her back pocket for her wallet then produced a couple dollar bills.

Commanding Eve’s attention, she said, “Here. There’s a vending machine down the hall. Why don’t you grab us a few coffees?” Chloe handed her roughly six bucks, not remembering how much they changed for vending machine coffee. It couldn’t be all that great anyway. “You know how right? I mean, it’s pretty simple…”

“I think so…” She eyed the money suspiciously. “Yeah. I do.” Eve bobbed her head, slowly; the magazine fell from her lap as she stood up and trotted off down the hall, the heels of her shoes clicking against the cold tile floor.

Her absence would give Chloe more time to think.

It would have been easy enough for anyone else to assume Eve was just being eccentric and they’d probably look at her weirdly. How could someone not understand the concept of a vending machine? But Chloe took the little things in stride right now. She had to remember that it was more than just Lucifer out there. And it clearly wasn’t just celestials she was dealing with either.

She extracted her cell from her jacket pocket and started scrolling through contacts, not even knowing who specifically she was looking for until the contact list had Amenadiel’s name highlighted. She wasn’t even sure if she should be making this phone call.

~

_Chloe phoned Father Kinley after closing her case and turning in for the evening. It was supposedly on her way back home but she had to make a detour first._

_She waited for him at the docks, occupying the time by staring at the boats tied up at the pier. The ocean breeze definitely felt refreshing. She was enjoying the little things, like the palm trees standing twice as tall as these buildings or the cawing of birds. Sea gulls by the sounds of it._

_Father Kinley arrived shortly thereafter._

_She didn’t smile; this meeting would be short. “Thank you for meeting with me.”_

_He took a seat next to her. When she called asking to meet, he had this small gut feeling that Chloe had reneged on her end of the deal. One look at her told him everything he needed to know._

_“You’re still having second thoughts?”_

_Chloe sighed, heavily. “No, actually. I, um, I changed my mind.” Fixing her gaze on something other than the slate grey concrete beneath her feet, she now looked at him instead, trying to settle the lump in her chest. “I’m not going to help you. I won’t hurt Lucifer like that.”_

_“We’ve been through this, Chloe.” He started thinking that maybe this Lucifer she was claiming to not want to hurt anymore had gotten into her head, manipulated her somehow. “All you have to do is give him the sedative. I will perform the exorcism.”_

_“I know that you think he’s some evil monster but I know that in my heart, you are wrong. It—” Chloe inhaled sharply. “Even if he used to be that thing…in the books…he’s not anymore. At least not around me. So, I’m sorry but I won’t do it.”_

_Kinley sighed. “We can’t do this without you, Chloe.”_

_“Oh I know.” Her voice was starting to break. “And I know why. It’s because I make him vulnerable and you must have known that.”_

_He nodded, with no hesitation. “I suspected. There are writings—” She interrupted him._

_“Yes, I know what the books say. But the very fact that I make him vulnerable means that he’s changed or at least that he is changing.” Chloe exhaled. “I don’t know what I can to convince you. Maybe on day you’ll see what I see…”_

_Kinley nodded, slowly, hesitantly. “Maybe…”_

_Chloe walked off, digging into her coat pocket for her the keys to her grey 2014 Dodge Charger. But she couldn’t keep her hand steady enough and those keys nearly fell through her fingers. She was only barely able to keep her grip on them yet the rough edges did scrap the inside of her index finger._

_She assured herself she’d feel much better as soon as she got in her car. She jabbed the key in the ignition and gave it a good turn then through the vehicle into drive. Chloe checked her rear-view mirror; Kinley was still sitting there on the bench. Waiting. She was starting to get an eerie feeling in the pit of her belly. This was far from over yet._

~

 _That was almost too easy,_ came her thought as she disconnected the phone call with Amenadiel. Usually there was wailing and screaming and demanding to know details whenever Chloe made one of these calls.

Amenadiel was very head-strong, loyal, determined, disciplined, and righteous. Lucifer at one point in time had referred to his brother as a _‘major power-hungry dick’_. He once looked down on humans, admonishing his brother’s meaningless sexual encounters as poor creatures, knowing not what they do. He eventually began to understand them as others did. Though hiding it well, Amenadiel still cared deeply for Lucifer, reaching as far as acting within his brother’s best interests.

Her own relationship with Amenadiel seemed as normal as normal could be—the finding out the truth of the existence of celestial beings aside. It was never him she was cross with. Truth be told, she wasn’t cross with Lucifer, either. Chloe panicked and in her panic, she allowed herself to be manipulated. This was a truth she withheld from Amenadiel during their phone call. Lucifer would be fine. All is well.

The mobile once again slipped into her right jacket pocket. While waiting for news, Chloe slouched forwards with her knees atop her elbows and her face buried in the folds of her palms. She exhaled abruptly, hardly bringing to attention how her own pulse was beating in her ears.

Eve returned shortly thereafter, with two coffees in tow- one was a venti vanilla latte and the other was a simple Americano with cream and sugar. “I don’t know what you really like, so…” Chloe lifted her head up and after being explained to what the drinks were, she chose the venti vanilla latte and gestured a thank you with a simple head nod. “Have you heard anything?” She dropped herself into an empty chair right next to the detective.

“Hm? No, nothing yet.” Chloe nursed the latte between her hands yet hadn’t taken a sip, unlike Eve who didn’t seem to grasp the concept of caution on the side of the styrofoam coffee cup. “I did get in touch with Lucifer’s brother though. Told him what was going on…” She casually would glance at her own cheap styrofoam cup either to avoid looking at Eve—nothing against the woman, personally—or something besides this was stirring in her mind. “He’s at Linda’s and she’s watching Trixie, so… he-he’s not able to come out but I told him I’d keep him updated once I know something.” It was then that Chloe took a sip of her latte. She didn’t mind as the liquid burned in her throat.

Eve wanted to say something—anything, really—but she didn’t. Instead, it was the Americano she focused her attention on. This time, she remembered to blow on it. The coffee didn’t burn as bad though the flavor seemed slightly off. Maybe the radio of cream and sugar wasn’t quite right. It would be better next time.

The occasional squeak of white tennis shoes on the tile floor caused both women to look up. A middle-aged man in blue scrubs, a white medical face mask, and streaks of grey throughout his hair was walking up to them. Chloe assumed this was probably the very doctor they were waiting to hear from. They stood as he closed in and she felt increasingly nervous.

Were they going to be told of some underlining problem? Were they about to be told he coded again and they couldn’t bring him back? All sorts of imagery pranced through Chloe Decker’s mind yet she knew she was merely being overly anti-optimistic.

The grey-haired doctor removed his face mask. “Detective Decker, yes?” Getting a nod from the blonde-haired detective, he proceeded, “The CT scan showed no further internal bleeding and quite remarkably, we didn’t notice any damage to his vital organs. We assumed with the amount of blood loss that he would be needing a transfusion but, well, we can’t seem to pin-point his blood type at all. We were able to locate the bullet and were able to extract it safely.”

Chloe knew Lucifer would be alright but it was still assuring to hear it. “Thank you.” A weight had settled on her heart since the club shooting. Now, it had been lifted. “The shooter….Marco Franklin—has there been any word on his condition?”

“Unfortunately, I don’t have an update for you, detective.”

Eve cut in. “So, Lucifer is okay right? I mean, he’s gotta be. Can we see him?” She rambled on some until it was Chloe’s hand on her shoulder that calmed her down.

“I have every confidence that Mr. Morningstar should make a full recovery.” There were things about Lucifer’s current condition that still baffled him. “We did give him some morphine for the pain. He’s in room 113, just down the hall.”

Chloe added, “Thank you, doctor,” and the man responded with a simple nod then wandered off to deal with other patients, leaving the women standing alone in the waiting area. “Room 113, okay, got it, let’s go.” She gave Eve a gentle nudge with her elbow.

They leisurely meandered off down the hall to room 113 as per the physician’s directions. Her heart was thumping the entire time. She barely glanced over to Eve, who appeared more optimistic as she did. Chloe tried a few simple breathing techniques but they didn’t seem to be working very well. It might have been the smell of the sterile environment getting to her. Or just her own nerves. At this point, it was hard to tell.

Upon reaching room 113, Chloe stayed her hand just as fingers brushed the door handle. She was hesitant and probably for a good enough reason that even Eve wouldn’t understand. She inhaled some air then exhaled it deliberately slow before giving the handle a good push and turn.

Chloe’s attention was drawn to the monitor that recorded his vitals. All seemed good. The steady beeping was an anomalous comfort. The room itself was oddly dull, sale for the pale coloring of the sheets and plastics of the machine décor. Last time she was in a hospital room like this, Chloe was the one in the bed and Lucifer was the one in her place. Oh how times were different.

Lucifer was laid up in bed, completely awake. The moment he heard the door, he was glancing their way, and gave them a cheeky, half-morphine induced smile; “Detective! Eve! Well, this is certainly a sight. The two of you… here… together. I guess the morphine is working better than I thought. Come to give me a sponge bath have you?” He grinned. Despite his pain, he still managed a mischievous seductive suggestion.

“I’m so glad you’re okay!” Exclaimed Eve as she flocked to his side, somewhat heedless of the IV needle protruding from his arm when she flung her arms around him. He grimaced at the tugging in his skin. She backed off while mouthing an apology. “Come on. Let’s get you home.”

Chloe stepped up to the right side of the bed. “Eve, they need to keep him overnight for observations.” She could see from the looks of the woman that this news was not what she wanted to hear.

“Right you are.” Lucifer gave Eve’s hand a soft pat. “Though, I would appreciate a new shirt. Shame really. I actually liked the other one. I should throttle that dullard for ruining a perfectly good maison margiela.” He managed a light chuckle, despite his frustration.

“We can grab you a new one from the penthouse,” Chloe offered.

Lucifer nodded. “Splendid!” He flashed her a toothy smile.

It was the smile that did her in. Though she loved seeing him smile, it felt like a knife tearing through her chest as easily as tissue paper. Just for a moment, her heart was feeling tight behind her ribs.

“Listen, um—”

Chloe’s near-declaration was interrupted by a mid-twenties something nurse trotting into the room. She was pretty enough; someone Lucifer would find endearing anyway. The young woman was all smiles, especially when it came to the handsome club owner. Chloe almost felt like rolling her eyes. Almost.

The woman introduced herself as Nurse Headley, a first-year intern here. She was tall, skinny, and a brunette to boot, with thin pink lips, deep freckles, and green eyes. Chloe was sure that Lucifer would instantly start flirting with her regardless of the other two being in the room or not. She briefly caught a glimpse of Eve and noticed the same look in the raven-haired woman’s eyes.

Jealousy. Such an ugly thing. Then again, Chloe knew Lucifer well enough by now. He’d flirt with just about anything with a heartbeat, regardless of equipment.

Headley flashed them both a smile; “You must be… Detective Decker?” She waltzed up directly next to the detective then proceeded to take Lucifer’s pulse.

“I’m Eve!” Came an exuberant cry from the other side of the bed, as if she wanted this young woman to know the man in the bed was spoken for.

The brunette nurse gave Eve a gentle nod. “A pleasure. Well Mr. Morningstar, vitals appear stable. You are quite the lucky man.” She made a note of it in his chart.

“The benefits of immortality, darling.”

Headley looked at him oddly with a raised brow. Chloe, on the other hand, chuckled nervously and gave Lucifer’s arm a sarcastic pat. “Don’t mind him. He likes to speak in metaphors.” She shot him a look which he brushed off rather quickly.

“Right. Well, I’m supposed to tell you Mr. Franklin is out of surgery though it might be a bit before he’s awake and coherent. We do have two police officers posted by his door like you requested.”

Chloe’s head bobbed. “Yes, thank you.” The nurse left them to it. Once she had gone, Chloe resumed looking at only Lucifer. “I need to go talk to the officers. Are you gonna be good?”

“Well as you can _undoubtedly_ see, detective, I’m not going anywhere anytime soon so you have nothing to fret about.” He gawked a bit at Eve and gave her a slight, reassuring smile.

Chloe nodded. “Right, well, um, I’ll be back then…”

Turning on her heels, she stalked her way out of the room, ignoring the girlish giggle that erupted from Eve’s mouth. She was glad to see Lucifer was very much alive and well because she knew how horribly wrong this could have gone otherwise and the guilt she would have lived with for the rest of her life. If that wasn’t enough to send her down to Hell, what would?


	6. Sentimentality

Immediately upon entering Lux, patrons are greeted to a platform overlooking the main area with an attached stairwell spiraling down to the dancing floor below. The nightclub used to be an MMA bar from the stories Chloe has heard. Lucifer and his brother fought in a cage match here. A match which Lucifer won by default only because Amenadiel gave up.

Lucifer resided in the penthouse in the top floor. An elevator was the only access—as far as she knew. She didn’t know much about what lay between the penthouse and the main club, except for maybe a kitchen; Lucifer used it once upon a time to make her dinner; and presumably apartments reserved for the employees who worked within the club. She was told of a wine cellar somewhere but Chloe had never seen it; she just assumed Lucifer kept it hidden for a reason.

The Devil really enjoyed his alcohol because he had another bar install in his penthouse. It was stocked with just about every kind of liquor Chloe could imagine. And probably some she hadn’t thought of. In the far corner by the floor-length window was a mahogany desk with gold enameled décor and a black Italian leather chair. On one end of the penthouse resided a library at least two floors tall. There was even a loft above them. Lucifer’s penthouse was house a series of arcane-looking symbology and text ingrained in the door frames and walls. In the center of the living area was a yellowish-orange Italian leather couch set.

Chloe wasn’t here to admire the décor and as much as she’d love a shot of whiskey right now, she refrained from grabbing a bottle of Blanton’s Single Barrel Bourdon from the selection behind the bar. That didn’t stop Eve, though, who immediately helped herself to a glass of Woodford Reserve. Chloe just rolled her eyes and quickly moved on.

She soon came upon Lucifer’s bedroom. He slept in a black H By Adriana Hoyos Upholstered Standard—king size, of course—with silverish-black Terra Bedding sheets and duvet and mountains of matching pillows with the same archaic design as on the sheets. She had to take a moment to appreciate his tastes. Lucifer never settled for anything less.

Moving on quickly, Chloe approached upon his massive walk-in closet. If she wasn’t here for purpose, she might take the time to admire it and reflect on her jealousy. Luckily, she quietly prided herself on knowing where Lucifer kept his clothing and in what drawers—or hangers—he organized everything. Perhaps she spent more time here than she thought.

After trifling through all of Lucifer’s clothing, she eventually settled on a deep purple Ermenegildo Zegna Trofeo Comfort Slim fit Button-Up and a coal black Virgin wool flannel waistcoat. Spending the time she did with him, she felt pretty confident in her abilities to select the kind of clothing he’d prefer, even down to the style and designer brands. He did actually own a few pairs of Levis, at least two or three Premium Weight Henley long sleeved tees in various colors, a couple French Terry hoodies, maybe some Adidas and Merrells. It was so rare to see Lucifer in anything other than designer suits that one could easily assume that’s all he owned.

Something caught her eye just as she was closing up one of the closet cabinets. Hanging up on the left-hand side was a white Thom Browne 4-Bay button-down shirt. Chloe knew she should be getting back to the hospital—she had everything she came here for—but it was something about _that_ particular shirt that drew her attention.

~

_Benefits_ _of crashing Lucifer’s penthouse: a killer surround system, the best view of the city, and all the top shelf liquor they could drink. Surely Linda and Chloe couldn’t let that all go to waste. They did what any rational human beings would in such a situation—they made themselves right at home. His vinyl collection was almost as impressive as his five glass shelves of alcohol. While Linda browsed through the drinks, Chloe was doing the same for the vinyls. Van Halen, Black Sabbath, Queen, Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin, Motley Crue—so many choices, not enough of them._

_Chloe eventually settled on Van Halen’s 1978 self-titled album. Linda was just returning from the bar with two glasses of Four Roses Yellow Label—neat, no rocks. It was the perfect blend of cherry, honeysuckle, and poached fruits, leaving behind a pleasantly smoky-sweet aftertaste. Chloe couldn’t find the humor in the first song on the record. Runnin’ with the Devil? Linda managed to hide her snicker behind her glass whereas the detective started wandering around, absorbing all the sophisticated interior decoration._

_The first hour or so dragged on fairly normally. They went through both sides of the Van Halen record and refilled their drinks at least twice more. Chloe felt the buzz when approaching the second hour. That didn’t stop her from a fourth glass. She must have flipped through the rest of the vinyls at record speed but exhaled sharply, seemingly annoyed with herself that she couldn’t settle on something. It was eventually Bob Seger & The Silver Bullet Band, album from 1978—and Old Time Rock ‘N’ Roll was the first song choice._

_Linda coughed and sputtered and started waving her hands; “Wait! Wait! Wait! This isn’t right. We need proper attire!!” She wiggled her hips excitedly; the bourdon had started affecting her after the third glass._

_"Oh! I know just the thing!” There was a moment’s pause in which Chloe stared at the therapist, the liquor shelves, and finally the bedroom before explaining, loudly, “Lucifer’s closet!” There was a smirk on Linda’s face when Chloe cracked the code._

_The women giggled. It could have been the alcohol talking. They flocked to the walk-in closet and rummaged through various drawers, pushed through several hangers, opened up boxes here and there—but then, they found what they were looking for. Hanging off of some hangers in the back were two pristine Thom Browne 4-Bay button-down shirts; one black, one white._

_Chloe tossed the black one to Linda, keeping the white one for herself. The women stripped off their clothing, kicking it haphazardly away in some obscure direction they weren’t looking at. They quickly slipped into their shirts of choice. Chloe even managed to find a pair of sunglasses. Their timing was right on the money. Linda jumped the two or three steps from the bedroom to the polished floor as Chloe skidded in front of Lucifer’s bed, a hairbrush in hand to use as a microphone as Old Time Rock ‘N’ Roll played loudly on the sound system._

_~_

Chloe draped the shirt and waistcoat over the back of a nearby traditional accent chair then reached into the closet cabinet to slowly slip the button-down shirt from the hanger. The instant she had it in her hands, she recognized the familiarity to the fabric. Bringing it to her face, getting a good whiff—his scent still lingered; a combination of his organic aroma and just a modest bit of that Giorgio Armani cologne he fancied—and Chloe knew; this was the same button-down shirt she slipped into the night of her birthday when she and Linda decided an impromptu party-of-three at Lucifer’s penthouse was a good idea.

Backtracking through his bedroom, Chloe’s attention was drawn to the unmade bed—the ruffled-up sheets, the displaced pillows, the folded down duvet. She would feel bad if she left this unattended for him. After abandoning her bounty on an inn table, Chloe proceeded to fan out the comforter first then move the pillows from the bed before re-tucking the sheets under the mattress. After realigning the duvet, she tossed the pillows back on and gave them a couple of rough pats to fluff them up. Lucifer’s style reflected tailored and textured compared to the casual and comfortable of her bedding style.

She plopped down onto the bed, just for a moment, and exhaled a slowly drawn out breath. She smoothed her right palm over the duvet, absorbing the soft texture quality of the material. But that wasn’t really why she did it though. Truthfully, there was no reason. As her attention strayed again, Chloe’s eyes drifted to the safe embedded in the esoteric brickwork. Her smile was tender; the memory still sure in her mind, as was the necklace that still dangled around her neck.

~

_Chloe must have drifted off sometime afterward, dreaming of Lucifer, unaware of the elevator’s timely arrival, nor the click-clack of Zelli Verona Apron Toe Dress Lace Up shoes and travel bag rolling against the floor._

_By now he’d be slinking off to the bar, enjoying himself a scotch perhaps. Then he would sit himself at the piano and play something classic—something from The Beatles. Hey Jude? That was a favorite. She hummed the melody against her lips as if waiting for the stroke of the keys._

_She should have been able to recognize the stamping of his shoes coming up the steps into the bedroom but maybe she was only thinking she had been imagining it._

_The movement came to a standstill, replaced by something else—a voice, one that sounded very much like her devilish partner. “I don’t know what you’re all doing here but I imagine it has something to do with the fact that I wasn’t.” She felt a shift in weight on the bed. “The truth is, I went to Las Vegas. And even though it was for a particularly good reason, I didn’t tell you because the last time I went on a Vegas jaunt, there were some very unpleasant feelings involved. For both of us…”_

_Chloe stirred just then; she wasn’t just imagining his voice; it was him. She just lay there with his eyes halfway opened, listening, missing the sound his voice made…_

_“…so I bluffed,” he chuckled. “But I’ve come to realize that perhaps bluffing is the same thing as lying, and that’s, as you know, is something I never want to do. Especially to you…” He reached out a hand, carefully placing it there on her back, his thumb gently stroking circles on her shoulder blade._

_Lucifer moved off. Something caught his attention. It looked like someone had been busy drilling into the Assyrian antique wall. Trying to get into the safe no doubt. He wasn’t mad; curious, more like it._

_She had turned over, starting rising, and pulled a yawn._

_He glanced at the bed, smirking, “Oh, perfect timing. You’ve woken up just in time for you surprise.” He reached in for the small blue box wrapped up tight with a bow tied at the end._

_Chloe pushed herself up, the covers slipping down. “Surprise? What surprise?”_

_“Well, forgive my tardiness,” he explained, apologizing the hour, “but I thought it prudent to deliver your gift in private.” Lucifer walked over, handing her the box just as he took a seat next to her._

_She smiled at him, “Thank you.”_

_The simple, yet elegant box was decorated with a black ribbon with a bow on top. Cliché, but Chloe found it endearing. Her face lit up when she laid eyes on what was inside—a white gold chain necklace. She carefully lifted it from the box, the chain dangling between her fingers. Hanging on the end of it was some kind of token unfamiliar to her, yet the shine on it caught her eye._

_She commented, “It’s beautiful…”_

_“Oh, it’s… “ **…just a small thing** , he almost said._

_Curiously, Chloe asked, “What is it?” She visually scanned the necklace, trying to deduce the object she was suddenly fascinated by._

_“It’s the bullet,” answered Lucifer, “from when you shot me. Remember, in the warehouse early in our partnership?”_

_Chloe nodded. “Oh. Yeah, I remember.”_

_“Well, I thought since I’d never likely penetrate you, I’d commemorate the one time you penetrated me.” The pair dissolved into fits of laughter, a slow warmth creeping through Lucifer’s chest. “So, happy birthday, Detective.”_

_Gifting jewelry was cliché but practical, but this was different. Maybe he would never understand the value Chloe would place on something so thoughtful. She scooted forwards, opened her arms, and invited him in. He didn’t know if he should, given how he left earlier without explanation, but Lucifer conceded in the end. Her arms wrapped around him and he, eventually, did the same to her. **This was nice** , he concluded._

~

Working for the police department—there was never a certainty of coming home. Chloe was grateful for each and every day she could walk back through the same door she left through. Tonight was hardly different. Yet, she trudged through her front door that night with a cold taste of metal in the back of her throat. The apartment was quiet. Trixie must still be with Linda. This, Chloe told herself, was a good thing. She needed a lot of things at the moment but first, a shower.

Her clothing reeked of sweat and blood—Lucifer’s blood. Her shirt was stained. Probably ruined beyond repair but maybe a cycle or two through the wash with a heavy saturation of detergent. She switch on the bathroom light as she entered then proceeded to run the hot water. Chloe tested the temperature first, flickering off droplets from her fingertips, then shimmed out of her clothing, leaving her gun and badge on the bathroom counter. It pooled at her feet. She kicked the pile aside then stepped carefully into the shower, immediately tilting her head back under the showerhead, letting the hot water jettison through her hair.

Chloe didn’t opt for long showers. She spent as little time as needed, then hoped out to dry off, wrapped up in a towel, and gathered her soiled clothing from the bathroom floor before wandering into her bedroom for a fresh change into her pajamas. Per her usual routine, Chloe’s gun and badge were shelve away in the side drawer by her bed. She always kept her 9mm there, with at least a single round in the chamber.

She tossed a bunch of clothes into her hamper then marched into the laundry, flicking on the light switch on the right wall. The washer was pre-set to the desired temperature and spin cycle, then she loaded it up—except for the button-up she wore at the night club. She could have called it a lost cost, tossed it out, but this was not the first set of clothes to get blood on them. Chloe mixed baking soda from the medicine cabinet and cool water to make a paste, then applied it to the stains and left the shirt on the sink.

A knock on her front door dragged her from the laundry room. When she walked out to answer, Amenadiel was standing there on the other side, carefully balancing a sleeping eleven-year-old Trixie in his arms. Chloe invited him inside and gestured to where her daughter’s bedroom was while she shut the door behind him. He laid he down the flicked off the light switch on his way out.

Chloe stood in slight awe, then added; “Thanks for bringing her home, Amenadiel,” She slid closed the bedroom door, then wandered her way towards the kitchen.

"It's no trouble, Chloe,” he retorted, flashing a warm smile, the kind that radiated serenity, then started heading off to the front door again, fixing to leave.

She considered letting him leave, then stopped him.

“Amenadiel, um, could you wait a moment?” When he halted his steps, and turned, Chloe cleared her throat, coughed, then exhaled with intention. “Listen, um, I know we haven’t had a chance to talk since I… found out… well, everything…” The fact Lucifer was the freaking Devil, that Amenadiel was an Angel, that all of it was _real._

He nodded, slowly, knowing this whole thing was heavy on her. “Yeah. That I’m an angel.” She forced a chuckle just as he was finding a stool to sit on. “How are you, by the way? I mean, it is a lot to process."

“Yeah. It is, is it, but I… “ Chloe glanced and started picking at her nails. “…I don’t know who else to talk to about all this. Right? My job is to read people, to understand their motives, to make sense of the world. And, right now, my world is celestials and immortals and… okay, look. Is Eve… okay? Is Eve secretly evil or some supernatural threat to the world?"

“Well, not that I know of, no."

“Okay, good. I thought so. Because, you know, I like her…. And I think she genuinely cares deeply about Lucifer. And she is so protective over him. I practically had to force her to leave his side and… “ Chloe paused, giving time to collect her thoughts, purposely ignoring her own feelings, “…I think she might be good for him. I think she might be exactly what he needs.” _…because that person is not me, not anymore,_ she told herself.

Amenadiel bobbed his head, agreeing, “I hope that’s the case."

"Yeah, me too."

Chloe was silent again, spending some time averting her eyes from him, finding mild fascinating at picking dirt from her fingernails. Truth be told, she was avoiding more than she was letting on.

“After all that you’ve been through, Chloe,” he pulled at her attention, “what you’re worried about most is what’s best for those that you care about. No wonder your dad is so proud of you."

She nodded, until she smiled, “Oh, that’s sweet, but, you know, my dad, he… he… “ Chloe watched as the look in Amenadiel’s changed, from compassionate and understanding, to all-knowing and insightful. “…Oh!” Anyone other than him suggesting the idea her father was proud of it might have gone over her head, but Amenadiel was an angel, he spent time in the Silver City, grew up there; he knew John Decker, and could confidently stand behind his words, “Thank you."

Amenadiel left soon after, and Chloe wished him a good night after seeing him to the door. She took a little bit longer at the door, pausing to collect her breath, then decided to double-back into the kitchen, padding her bare feet across her tile floor. Chloe snatched up a bottle of Merlot and poured herself a glass. Tonight’s activities still had her mind so frazzled. There was absolutely zero chance of a restful night’s sleep. Three glasses in and she was feeling the buzz.

That’s when she got the _brilliant_ idea of phoning Lucifer. But she couldn’t locate her phone. It wasn’t in the usual place in her pockets—she must have left in her room. Chloe moved quickly upstairs, and began tossing pillows off her bed, looking under the covers, and even under her bed. This entire time, the device had been sitting there on her nightstand.

Pumping her fists in the air triumphantly, Chloe scrolled through her contacts list under she had Lucifer’s number highlighted. As she suspected, he didn’t answer, and his usual voicemail message—one that almost always had her eyes rolling—tuned loud and clear. She listened to it, biting at her lower lip.

_"...at the sound of the beep..."_

Exhaling sharply, Chloe rambled out her message; “So, I’m about three glasses of Merlot in here. I probably shouldn’t even be making this call but I—well, I needed to get something off my chest and there’s no better way to do it than liquid encouragement.” She chuckled at her own expense. “….I-I fucked up. You had been telling me the truth for years and I just didn’t believe you. And I know you never lie, so I should have taken your word. You exposed the most vulnerable side of you and how do I react? By running off to Rome! Instead of being honest and upfront with you like you have been to me, I tried leading you into a false sense of security in order to send you to Hell. I was confused, I was scared. I didn’t know if the stories were true. Lucifer, I know that no manner of apology is going to undo what I did – what I tried to do – but you will never know how sorry I am. I don’t even know if you’ll hear this, to be honest, but--"

The message cut her off, and Chloe slumped against the wall in defeat. Guzzling the rest of her third glass made sense. Then she realized drinking by the glass wasn’t doing it so she trekked into the kitchen for the entire bottle, running to her room to finish off the night. Angered by her own self-loathing and guilt, Chloe chucked her cell as hard as she could against the wall, watched as the glass shattered, and realizing she didn’t care.


	7. Atonement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“People have to forgive. We don't have to like them, we don't have to be friends with them, we don't have to send them hearts in text messages, but we have to forgive them, to overlook, to forget. Because if we don't we are tying rocks to our feet, too much for our wings to carry!”_  
>  ― C. JoyBell C.
> 
>  _“He knew these last lines by heart and mouthed them now in the darkness. My reason for life. Not living, but life. That was the touch. And she was his reason for life, and why he must survive.”_  
>  ― Ian McEwan, Atonement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to take this time to express my gratitude towards all those who took the time to read and review this short fic. Honestly, I didn’t have the intention of making it longer than a chapter or two but then it just sort of exploded, lol. This is my first Lucifer fic and I’ve had a blast writing it. Like all good things, this, too, is coming to an end. I will more than likely create more fics in the future – I already have ideas for some – and I hope everyone who has kept faith with me throughout this journey will continue to do so later on. :)

Eve returned from the fridge with a green apple in hand, which she let stand on the wood cutting board, then walked around the bar, briefly nuzzling herself against Lucifer’s shoulder.

“You know,” she reached for two martini glasses, “I’m really happy you’re going back to work.” Glasses in hand, Eve meandered her way to the other side of the bar as Lucifer finalized the stainless-steal mixer with all necessary ingredients. “Once we got ESPN up there forget it.”

“Well, sadly,” he gave the mixer a good shake, “there’ll be a lot less lying around here now that I’m back to catching killers. But there are certain perks to having a boyfriend who works with the LAPD. An endless supply of handcuffs, for one.” It seemed foreign—the word _boyfriend_. Even as the word rolled off his tongue, he realized it would be something he’d have to get used to.

Surprised, Eve raised a brow, “Boyfriend?”

“Well, I…” he thought about it; it was the least he could try admitting to, “once someone tends to you when you’re bleeding to death, it’s only good manners to make it official.”

They kissed. Their kiss felt different. It wasn’t like kissing Chloe. Where the detective had a way of leaving his lips tingling after they parted, with Eve—it was nice, sure, but it… it just wasn’t the same. Lucifer liked her well enough but kissing her—unlike the detective—didn’t leave a flutter in his chest.

After the kiss, Eve asked, “So, we’re really doing this?” Unaware that it hadn’t been _her_ that was still on Lucifer’s mind.

“I’ll finish making your drink and we’ll toast to it.”

The blade came down on Lucifer’s finger, “Ooh!” While the sharp knife blade would have normally broken skin, Lucifer merely felt the sensation of it; his flesh remained intact.

“Careful!” Eve immediately reached for his hand but was quite shocked to see the knife hadn’t sliced open his finger. “You’re fine.” She seemed perturbed when he returned to slicing the apple, brushing it off like nothing had happened, that she didn’t just see what she did. “What is it with you only getting injured sometimes?”

Lucifer spoke without thinking, “Oh, I’m only vulnerable when the detective’s around.”

“What?”

Completely oblivious to Eve’s discomfort, Lucifer exclaimed, “Oh! I total forgot. My snake costume finally arrived. You are going to love this!”

Lucifer abandoned the martini glasses and rushed off towards his bedroom. Meanwhile, Eve was still standing there, perplexed about his revelation. It probably should have occurred to her last night after the shooting incident but she was far too concerned for him in the moment to process anything logically.

In the time it took for him to disappear from sight, she started looking at the elevator and just for a moment, she actually thought about drinking downstairs as opposed to up here with him. 

~

_The wail of nearby sirens was unmistakable._

_Lucifer stormed from the bar, hastening his pace as he turned a corner. He heard the click-clack of heels coming up behind him and knew Eve had been following him. Just so long as it wasn’t the detective._

_She called from behind him, “Lucifer!” and quickened her stride to keep up with him. He plucked the pocket square from his breast pocket and pressed it tight to his shoulder. “Are you okay?” She asked, catching up._

_“I will be.”_

_Eve skipped ahead. “No, I mean—I saw what happened back there with the detective.” She exhaled, slowly, then asked, despite a subtle expression change on Lucifer’s face. “You weren’t just work partners, were you?” Earlier at the chateau, just now inside the bar—Eve knew there was much more that he just wasn’t saying._

_His answer was stiff, “It doesn’t matter. It’s over.” His voice sounded bitter and cold._

_Lucifer tried stepping around her._

_“Well,” she put her hands against his arm, forcing him to halt, “how come that pool stick hurt you, but the bullet to the head didn’t?”_

_“I..” The question caught him off guard, one he definitely did have the answer to but one he’d be more inclined to answer when he wasn’t bleeding. “Look, I will explain later, but for now, we just need to get out of here. Come up with a new bloody plan to retrieve that necklace…”_

_Lucifer strode past her, wondering if this was even bloody worth it._

~

The walk-in closet adopted a more elegant, masculine, and classy look, utilizing solid mahogany paneled cabinets and matching drawers. Most of the clothing cabinets used glass doors to give it a more modern twist. The contents inside entirely visible. This closet also contained a few storage nooks and a bench in the middle aisle. Seated somewhere around the bench were two black arcane-style chairs with dragons carved into the arm rests. He hardly used these; they were more for decoration.

The snake costume he came to look for was hanging up on one of the hangers in the far back. Unlike all of his luxurious designer suits, the costume wasn’t kept behind a glass panel framed in mahogany. As he plucked it from the hanger, his eyes caught sight of a white Thom Browne 4-Bay button-down just precariously resting there, the fabric spilling over the edge of the nook, brushing the drawers. Lucifer habitually strived not to get himself choked up on emotions but his throat felt taunt just then, and he considered giving it a toss in the rubbish. Instead, he folded it away in the top drawer of the dresser, where a small pile of Chloe’s clothing had already been. That drawer got closed immediately, and Lucifer ambled from the closet in a rush.

His snake costume dangling over his left arm, he rejoined his girlfriend—the idea still seemed off-putting—in the living slash dining area; “Here we are!” Lucifer exclaimed, proudly, then unfurled the costume, airing it out a bit, holding it upright so Eve could see it clearly. “What do you think?”

Eve was already sipping her martini. When he waltzed back in, she was paying attention, “Wow, Luce! It looks fantastic. Maybe later you could—” Pushing herself up, she slinked her way across the floor to where he was standing, “—I don’t know, _tempt me with sin_.” She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

Lucifer grinned, “Always, darling.”

Their second kiss was less gentle, more intense. She murmured something incoherent against his mouth, which gradually melted into a pleasurable moaning. His fingers brushed against her neck, pushing hair away from her olive-toned skin.

Lucifer just started reaching further when his phone started buzzing on the piano. He groaned, outwardly, and very much contemplated tossing the contraption from the balcony. A case of _mobile interruptus_ as he called it.

A flash across the screen indicated a missed message. “What is it, Luce…?” Eve quired, trying to get a glimpse of the phone screen, but shushed as he gestured for her to do so.

He recognized the number as Chloe’s.

Lucifer experienced a perception of apprehension as the missed message glared up at him, taunting him, and for a split second, he did seriously contemplate scrapping it. Instead, he chose to take a listen.

“Luce..?” Eve reached for him.

He lowered his phone, then glanced at her a moment, “So sorry, love, but I need to go.” He left her behind without an explanation, pocketing his phone and grabbing his blazer as he dipped into the elevator.

~.~.~.~.~

His first thought was a pit-stop at the precinct. He asked about the detective; surely she’d be somewhere; at her desk, perhaps. But Espinoza said she called in for the day. Lucifer didn’t stay to chat, not that he’d want to with the douche, anyway. He attempted to call her himself but when he got her voicemail, he decided against it. Calling out from work, not picking up her phone—this was unlike her; he was concerned.

He found an alley somewhere behind the precinct, somewhere shrouded in shadow, and there is where he felt safe enough to unfurl his wings.

Lucifer took extraordinarily little time reaching Chloe’s apartment, hardly bothering to knock as his wings folded back in. Though he would normally try to make such an effort as to knock before entering, he seemed perturbed enough to waltz inside; the door, he discovered, had been left unlocked.

His immediate observation told him few things--dishes in the sink, unfolded clothes on the couch, empty bottles of Pinot Noir on the counter. This was unlike the detective. She preferred neat and uncluttered over disorderly chaos.

He thought she could be on the back porch, or maybe seated in front of the couch, but then he caught wind of her terrible choice in 90s music, and ultimately decided to follow the melody upstairs. The music crescendos the closer Lucifer drew towards Chloe’s bedroom.

He veered through the doorway, catching a slight wind of what sounded like crying, “Detective, I tried phoning you but--” Somewhere sandwiched between her bedframe and the wall, nursing a glass of Pinot between her palms, he found the detective. She was looking kind of haggard; bags under her eyes, clothing wrinkled—probably hadn’t showered since yesterday, either. And smashed against the wall was her cell phone. He thought seriously about backtracking, retreating back to the penthouse, “This pathetic, feeling-sorry-for-yourself look doesn’t suit you at all, detective,” he quipped, typical sarcasm bleeding through his voice.

“Oh, really? I kind of, sort of, thought it….fit, considering…” Chloe mused, studying with silent fascination as the liquid swiveled around the bottom of her wine glass. Exhaling, sharply, she lifted her head and their eyes finally met. “…you’re doing well, I see…” … _oh my gosh, I didn’t think he’d be here._ She smiled, or tried to, but her mouth didn’t quite correctly move that way.

Lucifer’s head gradually moved up and down, “Yes, well, here I am… alive and in one piece,” She started moving, squirming, and twisting against the side of her bed until she could stand up, then scrambled across the top with all the grace of a newborn gazelle find its legs for the first time. “Wait, detective, just… oh, never mind…” Chloe disappeared into the bottom drawer of her nightstand only to reemerge with another bottle of liquor—one that was definitely not wine—and two matching Gentlemen Jack glasses.

She pointed at him, gesturing as she poured, “How’s Eve?”

“She’s… she’s well.”

“Good. Good,” she simply nodded her head, unsure if what passed through her lips was indeed true or she was just saying it for the sake of doing so. “She was worried about you. Hardly left your side. I was just telling Amenadiel I practically had to force herself to,” she chuckled, then her eyes narrowed, “Wait, what _are_ you doing here?”

“When you began you message by stating how many glasses of Merlot you had,” he explained, perhaps a slight chuckle to accompany, “and draw out this winded apology, I got concerned. We both know you don’t handle your alcohol very well.”

“Lies! All lies! I handle it v-very well indeed.”

Chloe puffed out her lips, expelling air from her lungs in rapid succession, the waved her left hand in an insensible motion, then extended the glass towards him, muttering incoherent nonsense, then unceremoniously endeavoring to facilitate a glass of whiskey for herself.

Exhaling, Lucifer down beside her, scoffing, “Right, because you’re so admirably displaying otherwise,” he snatched the bottle and poured her a glass, then re-corked the bottle, and let it rest between their legs.

“Pfft!” she tutted, brushing her hand through air, dismissing what he was saying, “Alright, so maybe I just needed a drink… or two. This isn’t the first time I’ve been like this.” Chloe sipped at her whiskey like she was sucking a bottle, occasionally slipping a drop here and there on her pale green sweater.

“Detective Douche break up with you over text again?” Lucifer smirked, until she glared, “Right. Right. So, if that’s not it then all of this is bec—” She interrupted, pouting.

Chloe guzzled the rest of her whiskey, “Because! Because, I fucked _up_ in the most colossal way! Look what happened with Detective _Douche_ ,” Lucifer smirked; hearing her calling Dan that was comical, “and we hardly interact except at work and when Trixie is involved. Oh! And Janet from Cyber Crimes! She and, um, what was his name again…?”

“…Brad?”

She clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, “No, that’s not it. Um…Oh! Nathan!” Her fingers snapped as it dawned on her, “That’s it! Yeah, they had a _nasty_ break up and they said they’d be professional at work but we both know how well that turned out and then Nathan transferred.” Chloe reached for the bottle, but Lucifer’s hand was blocking it.

“Detective, I do not have any hatred for you if that’s what you are getting at,” he assured her, sensing she was leading that way, then retracted his hand so she could refill her glass, yet seemed amused when she decided drinking straight from the source was the better alternative, “What chanced amongst Janet and Nathan or even concerning you and the Douche will not materialize with us. I promise you, and I am a Devil at my word, detective. We are partners, you and I.”

Chloe trundled her shoulders, “You sure about that?”

“Quite.”

He embraced her, giving her shoulders a gentle squeeze. Chloe sighed, contently, briefly nuzzling her head against his thick, warm chest, and then smiling when he exhaled, her head bobbing up and down with the rhythmic movements. She adjusted her position, inclining her head just a bit, and then curled her other arm around his waist. Having Lucifer comb his fingers through her hair was a thing she didn’t know she needed until he was doing it, and the feeling was so relaxing.

His nose touched the crown of her head, grazing it gently, allowing the fragrance from the follicles to waft past his nostrils. His fingers trickled down the back of her head, brushing over the base of her skull and then the nape of her pale neck. He allowed his fingers to trapse even further, until he found that one spot along her spine and began stroking there.

Chloe evicted an indecorous sound someplace from her throat, “mm, yes, that feels so good…” she muttered-slash-chuckled and groaned once more as a shiver surged through her spine, a warm, electric sensation pulsing in her bloodstream.

His technique varied between bed mates, and although Chloe hardly fell into that category, Lucifer knew exactly how to make her feel good. His touch was firm, but also gentle, rubbing long strokes along the muscles at the base of her neck. He utilized his thumb around the general area of tension, working out the problematic knots. Lucifer relaxed his palm flat in the middle of her shoulder blades, and she instinctively drew a deep breath, exhaling in deliberately sluggish spurts, instead of all at once. They replicated the action, and Chloe sighed in relief, feeling such a weight of stress lift from her body.

Lucifer sighed rather softly, ceasing in the ministrations, and the detective groaned in protest, “Go take a shower, I’ll handle the mess downstairs,” he suggested.

He disengaged himself from her, pushing his body against the wall until he was standing, then proceeded to extend a hand and help Chloe do the same.

The heavily inebriated detective teetered against Lucifer’s massive frame. His hands braced against her shoulders to keep her steady on her feet, then ever so cautiously pivoted her around and gently nudged her towards the bathroom. Once the bathroom door had been closed, he turned out of the detective’s bedroom and wandered off downstairs.

Lucifer decided tackling the dishes in the sink would be his first priority, so he tossed a dish towel over his left shoulder and got down to work. _Disgustingly domestic_ —that’s what Maze would say to this, and he would tell her she was reaching. Her assumptions were well beyond her pay grade, and he stopped paying her years ago, so, most definitely above her pay grade.

His cell began tolling.

The kitchen sink flicked off so he could answer. Eve’s name flashed on the screen. He sighed, a bit hesitant to answer, yet her did, “Eve, darling, yes, I apologize but—” Lucifer’s eyes darted towards the stairs; the detective had finished her shower, “—listen, the case, well… it’s taking longer than I had planned so, it looks like we will have to post-pone that celebratory drink.” It wasn’t a lie; there really was a case, and it was taking longer than planned.

Lucifer squandered all style of intelligible speech as the detective re-emerged, now sporting a pair of blue jeans and a long sleeved black and red plaid button-up top, her hair combed out neatly, cascading in ringlets over her shoulders.

Somewhat unstable on her feet still, Chloe palmed the wall in her decent. She managed to wobble her way towards the kitchen, then pluck a bar stool towards her. She yipped as her backside hardly made contact with the surface of the stool, and suddenly Lucifer was right there to keep her balanced so she didn’t collapse on the floor.

Doing so almost cost him to drop his cell phone, yet he ungracefully managed to hang onto it, juggling it from shoulder to hand and back to shoulder, “What? Oh, yes, everything is well, darling. I’ll be home later. Don’t wait up yes? Yes, right, okay. Must dash,” the phone slid from his shoulder and he thumbed over the end call button. He slipped the mobile device into his breast pocket then flashed a grin. “That was Eve,” he stated, as if the detective couldn’t deduce that part on her own, then he added, “my girlfriend. We, we made it official today.”

Chloe recognized the familiar jab in her chest, “Oh! Your, your girlfriend. Well, that’s… well, that’s fantastic. I’m glad. I think she’ll be good for you. I… I really, I really do… “ Her attempts to hide her emotions, especially with her intoxication lowering her inhibitions, wasn’t panning out well, and her face was feeling heated.

“Detective – “ he frowned, noting the deepened color of her cheeks, “ – are you quite alright?”

“Hm? Oh, yes, I’m good,” she nodded in the affirmative, re-adjusting the way she sat on the bar stool, either to make herself appear more comfortable, or to distract herself; her mind confused her as to which.

“Perfect.”

He promptly resumed to his task, until the sink was emptied and the dishwasher was loaded, locked, and set up for a normal wash.

Then, Lucifer decided to make some tea. Shocking; the Devil had beverage tastes that weren’t strictly coffee or heavy amounts of alcohol – _I don’t get drunk off normal human amounts of alcohol, detective; I just like the taste of it…_ but, he had those moments, especially when engrossed in a good book, that a steaming hot cuppa was just what the proverbial doctor ordered.

After pouring through the detective’s selection of teas, Lucifer decided upon ginger, surpassing the peppermint even though he was well aware of the similar gastric-calming effects as the ginger tea.

Ginger tea contained loads of active phenol compounds such as shogaols and gingerols, which soothe the stomach, reducing the symptoms of tummy upset associated with heavy drinking – nausea, vomiting, abdominal pain; all things he learned from his eons of life, and having experiments of his own; hangovers, shockingly, not being one of those. As the saying goes— _he drinks and he knows things…_

Lucifer used two tea bags whenever he made himself a cuppa, so he decided on doing the same with the detective and opted for a simple coffee mug from the cabinet. He’d been to her place so often that he had the whole thing mapped out, down to the minute detail.

Chloe graciously thanked him, before giving the steaming liquid a couple air puffs; “You don’t have to take care of me, ya know – “ her fingers played with the rim of the cup, “ – but I’m grateful you stayed.”

“Of course, detective.” He flashed a toothy smile.

She pursed her lips, gently blowing on her tea again, then exhaled, and asked, “Lucifer, I know I have much to atone for but… if you could ever find it in your heart, to ever… forgive me –”

“Detective,” he was mid-way in applying tea bags to a cup of his choosing, “as I’ve told you before, we are _partners_ , you and I – “ even though he once considered dissolving their partnership, until it was clear to him that he didn’t wish it despite being furious with her, “ – and I will have your back, okay? That is a _deal_ , and a deal with the devil is binding.”

Chloe smiled, “Okay.”


End file.
